


He Was Bored Redux

by Anyanka77



Series: He Was Bored [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Divergence, Coffee Shops, Control, DaddyJames, Dark, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Maybe - Freeform, Physical Abuse, Rules, Stockholm Syndrome, Trauma, it'sjustbegining, magic bullets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9510452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyanka77/pseuds/Anyanka77
Summary: I had not finished this, but read it again recently and wanted to make it better, darker and faster. So, the same idea, revved up.It's never good for an unsuspecting girl when James is bored.





	1. The Acquisition

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [He Was Bored](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518800) by [Anyanka77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyanka77/pseuds/Anyanka77). 



He was bored. More than bored. Sure it had been fun at first, watching his foil snip the threads ahead of him as he slowly spun an even more elaborate design behind him, but now, it was getting tiresome. He needed something to take the edge of the ordinary work of his extraordinary existence. It was time to find a new distraction. A new pet.

It had taken him no time at all to plot how to ruin the world’s only consulting detective and he had actually been a little pleased to see that while the plan should have worked, did technically work, it was also a failure. A failure that let him chase and scheme and follow his unworthy obsession across Europe. Well figuratively, James Moriarty couldn’t be seen in Europe just yet. Too many chances for someone to be an idiot and point out that he was in fact, not dead. So he settled for America. Horrifying as that was.

Chicago to be exact. Lovely city. Bustling and crowded but also oddly slower paced and quiet, and such a glorious history of criminal wonders. The city positively oozed corruption and sin. Keep “Sin City” and “The City That Never Sleeps”. If he couldn’t be in London, in his home, he was more than happy to bask in the glorious underbelly of the Windy City.

But after two years. He was getting bored. Too bored. Dangerously bored. That kind of boredom could make even the cleverest of men stupid. He needed… something.

Then he remembered her, the girl with the laptop. She could work, he’d seen her a couple of times already and had registered that she was oddly intriguing despite seeming so unbearably ordinary. The type of girl who wore the same beat up, over-sized cardigan and top-knot every Monday, always ordered the same cherry and cheese danish on Wednesdays, and read the same strange blog about Ru Paul's Drag Race every Friday. She was easy to track, so wonderfully predictable. But there was more to her than predictable. There were those key things that were needed when you were going to, let’s say “acquire”, a girl. The predictability was important, when the acquisition was predictable, it made them easier to track, it, however, also made it easier to notice when they had gone missing. You needed the predictability lack of socialization. They had to be solitary, he looked for acquisitions who seemed, “happy enough” being alone. He had already chosen not to acquire the girl who sat in the window, taking pictures of herself and giggling at her phone. Someone would notice if she was gone because she tried so hard to make sure that everyone knew she was there. He’d also passed on the girl curled up in one of the overstuffed chairs. She didn’t have that need to be seen, but what she did have was a pair of heels in her bag. She had been in that chair twice in the last week, sipping a very large iced tea and reading some book that looked to be the latest “middle-age woman” best-selling porn. This was a woman who used this as her alone time. She stole a little time for herself from the office. She would be missed. It would have to be the girl. So he would wait.

 

While he waited he placed a couple phone calls, texts, and one particularly aggressive gif. He started to decide how to approach her. He could tell she had been intrigued too. Her intense and oddly fascinating eyes grabbing chaste looks at him every time they happened to be at this same coffee shop at the same time. He initially came there for the scones and relative silence, now he decided he would start to come there for her.

 

He checked the time, it was Wednesday, cherry cheese Wednesday. The last time they had both been there on a Wednesday, she settled into her little corner around 2:30. It was so lovely that she was so predictable. It was 2:17 and she was just ducking in the door, shaking the rain off her coat on the mat. He observed quietly. She had her danish and coffee, she was in her corner, her laptop was open, and then there was the glance. He smiled.

 

Who should he be this time? Sweet and kind Jim? Shy and damaged Rich? Someone new? Dark and intense and thrilling? Safe and ordinary? So many delightful options. Part of him just wanted to be himself to watch her tense, watch as her eyes went wide and he make the blood in her veins run cold. Not yet though, that would come soon enough.

She glanced over her laptop, taking a pause from the load screen, to look at the man across the room, feeling eyes on her and prickling a little. He was always there it seemed. Every time she came down to the coffee shop to work rather than sit in her apartment and stare at the screen for hours as if it were her only lifeline. When she moved to the city to work as a freelance designer, she thought there would be a touch of glamour and mystery to being a single girl in a big city. The after effects of one too many romantic comedies she figured. Alas, that was not her life. Her life, was staring at a screen for hour a day when she had work, and staring at her phone for hours a day when she did not. It was… boring. But he wasn’t.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was about him. The first time she saw him she barely registered his existence. He was decently looking, if not a bit too proper in crisp jeans and a button up, but that was a dime a dozen in this neighborhood. Here men were either crisply dressed business men starting the long trudge into dignified careers or questionably ironic hipsters who needed a shave and a slap. He fell into the former she assumed. A man who would drone on about his education and his life plan and where he saw himself in the next five years. Oh god, never mind, back to work. She didn’t need a boring distraction in her life. Her life was enough of a boring distraction on its own.

It wasn’t until the third time she saw him there that she really started to notice him. Why was he always there? Same crispness, odd darkness about him, same unnerving looks that she would glance up and see over her laptop. He was good looking. In an odd way. Maybe he wasn’t what she had assumed. Maybe she was just being jaded and judgmental. Maybe she should stop staring since he was walking over.

He opted for a scaled back version of himself. Why not test the water and see how this little one reacted to the thrum of underlying menace. This should be fun.

“Excuse me?” He purred, letting the odd lilt of his voice hit her with just two words. From the couple of one off trysts he had had while in this city, he knew girls just loved a man with an “accent”.

She suddenly seemed engrossed in her laptop, afraid to look up at him. “Yes?”

“You were starting.”

Her head popped up defiantly at the accusation. She had in fact, not been staring, she was returning the unsettling look he has been giving her since she walked in. Part of her wanted to just tear him in two, shatter the weird veneer of confidence that he strode over with and show him that she was not a random girl to pick up at a coffee shop. She would have, she should have, but something in the eyes she locked on when her head popped up instantly told her that would end badly. Dangerously badly. So instead she muttered and lied. “Sorry, thought you were someone else.”

He practically oozed into the seat next to her, adding to the menacing tension. “Don’t lie.” He leaned in, speaking barely above a whisper. Almost instantly her mouth went dry and she snapped back to her screen, taking a quick sip before muttering.

“I felt you looking at me again and I looked up. Sorry.”

A devilishly sweet yet shark like grin slid across his face. “Good, you noticed. I’m James.” He extended a hand and pushing the laptop closed, “And you are?”

She sighed softly, and shook his hand, nervous, but finding the fortitude to be honest, “I’m Kate, and not to be rude, but I kinda need to get this done and don’t want to be hit on.” She popped the screen back up between them.

He let out a wry chuckle. “Wasn’t hitting on you. Just being friendly, I’ll just leave you to it then… Good day, Kate.”

He didn’t have to look back to know she was watching him now as he strode across the room to grab his coat and leave, he had all the information he needed from that short conversation and stealth glance at her laptop. She was going to be a fun distraction. Now he just had to put his plan into action.

He settled into his chair, gliding his finger across the screen of his laptop as he did. A few quick keystrokes and he had what he needed, “Kate” as she introduced herself was actually Mary Katherine Johnston, a freelance graphic artist and designer, unattached from everything he could glean from his research and a transplant to the city from a small town in the middle of nowhere that missed her about as much as she missed it. He clapped softly to himself. She was almost too perfect. Just the type of girl that disappeared all the time with no one noticing. Perfect.

Two phone calls later and her fate was sealed. She was going to be his new pet.

Kate dropped her bag in the chair just inside the door of her apartment. The job was done and sent and now, with no other work on her books, she rolled her neck and headed to the fridge for a bottle of water with happy thoughts of Netflix dancing in her head. She had only taken one step into the kitchen when the hand grabbed her, wrenching her wrist up behind her back and smashing her to the wall, pressing her there under his weight and popping her shoulder out of the socket before she could even scream. The blinding heat in her shoulder and wrist were the last thing she felt as an arm tightened around her throat and stars danced in her eyes making everything go dark.

Everything hurt. That was the only thing that registered as Kate slowly tried to open her eyes. Everything. Hurt. She panicked and sat up quickly, immediately regretting it. The room spun around her and she felt a wave of nausea before falling backward again. Into someone’s arms.

“Careful now, Darling, Don’t need a concussion from smashing your head into the wall on top of all this.” She felt herself being slowly lowered to a pillow. She also, recognized the voice.

“James?” She croaked, suddenly aware that she could barely speak and her throat burned with glass and fire.

“Shhh, quiet Darling, Daddy’s turn to talk.” He placed a finger on her lips gently as she opened her eyes again, feeling the panic resurge and trying again to get up, fruitlessly, as he pressed her shoulder to the bed and she let out a strangled scream as the pain shot through her. “You’re in no condition to start running, Darling. Sorry about that, my boys got a little rougher than I had intended.” He traced his finger along her cheek. “Don’t worry, that misjudgment won’t go unpunished, but for now, we need to get you taken care of.” He stepped away and she shifted again, trying to follow his movement and just being, yet again, greeted by a fresh flame of pain. What had happened? Her questions were answered by a lovely and exceptionally scared young woman at her side, gently probing and making her wince, Kate squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. The woman’s voice and hands shook as she checked Kate over.

“Sh-she has a dislocated shoulder, a sprained wrist, a-at least two broken ribs—“ Kate winced at the touch to her side. “S-Sorry!” The woman tensed and moved with and even lighter touch, Kate opened her eyes to see that James was standing directly behind the woman, crowding her and staring down with a look that would stop a lion in its tracks.

“What else?” He asked in a hiss, his jaw tight.

“Sh- Th- there is—“ The woman swallowed a dry lump. “There are signs that she was choked, probably with a forearm across the throat, which explains why she sounds so hoarse, an-and o-other tr-trauma, the bruising on her legs woul-would sugges—Oh God” The woman tensed and fell silent, Kate could see his hands were in her hair now, yanking her back to look into his eyes. His electric, dark, menacing eyes.

“What. Did. They. Do?” He snarled into her face. This was not what he wanted, he wanted her picked up, and a little battered to make it easier to make her compliant, but generally in one piece for him to break apart. This, was not what he wanted at all.

The woman started crying as he wrenched her back, dropping the simpering girl to the floor, Kate again felt the surge or fear and panic through the pain, trying to process the words floating around her, her brain scrambled. Bruising on her legs would suggest… Oh God. Realization dawn on her face at the same time as James’ and tears leaked from her eyes.

James tore from the room like a hurricane, shouting back to the girl. “Tend to her, NOW!”

A tender hand stroked Kate’s hair back gently. “I’m so sorry, th-this is going to hurt.” The woman’s hands moved to Kate’s arm and in a blinding pop, Kate was out again.

Kate’s world was a series of pain and flashes of consciousness. There were  muttering and stuttering nurses, sweat covered doctors with shaky hands and succinct diagnoses, a quiet, well built maid who looked like she carried a gun and had no intention of telling a soul about this job because the pay good enough to ignore the carnage, and James.

 

James pacing. James menacing. James hovering. James checking. James keeping a watchful eye with just enough distance. James guarding and protecting her, from what, she did not know.

 

It could have been hours, or days. The deep haze born of drugs the doctors and nurses fed her made time unmanageable. This time, she snapped awake to the sound of James, leaning in and whispering, “Are you awake Darling? I need you to wake up now. You need to see this.”

“Good, you’re awake. Let’s sit you up now.” He slid an arm under her shoulders and eased her up. She expected a fresh wave of pain to flow through her but instead, she felt, well, quite wonderful, actually. He positioned her gently against him, her head lolling onto his shoulder. She could now see why she didn’t feel all the damage, the IV in her arm was dripping a delightful  new blend of drugs steadily into her system.  Moving away from the IV, she saw what he was sitting her up for, at the foot of the bed, two men were on their knees, looking at the floor, with two others behind them. Each had a gun pointed squarely at the back of the other men’s heads. James gave her a swift kiss to the temple, shifted her carefully, and gracefully slid off the bed moving behind the men.

“You see my darling Kate, I would be lying if said I hadn’t meant for them to hurt you. I needed them to hurt you, but not like this. These,” He took the gun from the nearest man’s hand, “monsters, defiled you Kate.” He squatted down in front of the taller of the two men, the gun dangling against his thigh. “They had a helpless, harmless, unconscious woman before them and they leapt.” He let the gun slide under the man’s chin, forcing him to lock eyes. “They dropped your limp, beaten body onto a mattress in the back of a dirty van, stripped and ripped the clothes from your body,” He began to slowly rise, the gun sliding up, placed squarely in the center of the man’s forehead. “And they violated you. You were covered in their sweat, their spit, your blood, their,” he turned his head staring resolutely into her eyes and without flinching shot the man in the head, the man crumpled backward with a dull thump. Kate gasped and started to shake, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. James was at her side almost instantly, slamming the gun to the chest of the man he has taken it from and gliding onto the bed next to her to pull her to him, stroking her hair gently. “Shh, Shh, It’s okay Darling, he hurt you. He hurt my Kate. Don’t be scared. He pulled her closer, hiding her tear-stained face in his chest, and nodded to the other man. With a sharp pop and thud, the other was dispatched. Kate screamed into him. “Shhh Shhh It’s okay,” He put his hands on either side of her face and locked his eyes on hers. Cold possession locked on fear and panic. “No one touches what's mine.”


	2. Acclimation

“Out.” He didn’t look up from her as the men quickly exited the room, leaving the two corpses to bleed on the floor. She was shaking and sniffling; her eyes rimmed in red and tears, the sudden overwhelming smell of blood making her feel nauseated. His thumbs stroked her cheeks. “You are mine now, Kate.” A chill ran through her at his emotionless voice. She tries to pull back and his fingers curl, holding her head still in place, forcing her to stare into depth of his deadly eyes. “Say it.”

A strangled sob comes from her lips. Nothing more.

“SAY IT!” His hands pressing in, making her skull ache and threatening to bruise her already battered face, as she gasps letting out a staggered sob at the sudden burst of aggression. Squeezing her eyes shut as hard as she could.

It came out as barely a whisper, followed by a flood of tears. “I am yours.”

“Good, rest.” He quickly released his grasp and gently lowering her to the bed before kissing her forehead, standing and smoothing jacket and strolling out of the room. She barely cracked open her eyes and saw him motion with his head and turn left, followed by the two men. Kate eased herself down to the bed, curling on her side, staring at the open empty door. 

She closed her eyes again and tried to steady her breath, but all she could smell was death.

There was no comfort here. She had no idea how long she stared at the door. Afraid to move, feeling the effects of the drugs slowly ebbing away and leaving a soft buzz of pain to crawl under her skin. Her mind racing and careening out of control. She wondered how long she could last. How long it would be before she was a body on the floor as James casually strolled away. If she had anything left in her she would have started to cry again, but she was drained. Exhausted and sore. Desperate to run but tethered to the bed by pain and fear.

Then a wave of something more frightening washed over her. She hated it, but she wanted him to come back. She needed someone to come back and help her.

Steeling herself, she pulled herself to sit, then turn and slowly lower her feet to the floor. She had no idea where she was but she knew she had to get out of this room and away from the death. She winced, pulled the IV from her arm and began the slow but determined walk to the door. She refused to look back, not wanting to see the blood and death behind her.

With slow labored breaths she pulled herself down the hall. Searching for any clue how to get out of the giant apartment she found herself in. If she had not been nearly blind with pain and fear, she would have seen the beauty, the lush design and rich tones, but all she saw was more walls and doors and no way out.  She leaned against the wall, holding her arm and side, panting with the exertion of what felt like a marathon through a maze but had just been a short stretch of hallway.

The door popped open across from her as she started to slide helpless down the wall. “Why are you out of bed, Darling?” He crouched quickly beside her, looking her over, his eyes unreadable. “I told you to rest.”

She drew in a shallow, shaky breath, “They’re still in there.”

He grabs her chin, lifting it slightly to rest his forehead against hers. “I need you to understand some things, Darling.” His eyes roll up to hers, boring into her. “When people don’t listen to me, I get unhappy. When I get unhappy, the people who don’t listen to me get hurt. You don’t want me to hurt you, do you Kate?”

Her body tensed as he spoke, trying to pull away. “N-no.”

His fingers came up to lace through the hair at the base of her head “They didn’t listen to me, Kate. They made me unhappy. I hurt them.” His grip tightened in her hair. Eyes burning into her. “Are you listening to me Kate?”

“Y-Yes.” She tried to keep her voice calm, not wanting to taunt the beast. Her breath in short even sighs.

“Mary Katharine, Don’t lie.” He rolled his head side to side, eyes closing, foreheads still pressed together. “No, no, no, you aren’t listening and you lie and lie. You were trying to run from me, you say what you think I want to hear thinking I don’t know you’re LYING.” He pulls her head back leans into her, rocking on the balls of his feet. She lets out a tense squeak at the pain. “I don’t want to hurt you Kate, but you’re making me unhappy. What happens when you make me unhappy, Kate? Tell me. You’re listening? Tell ME!”

She takes a labored breath as he winds his hand drags her head further back. “When I—make you unhappy—you hurt me.”

He lets go of her hair, still holding her eyes to his. “What did I tell you to do?”

“Rest.”

He rises quickly and smoothly and pulls her up to her feet. “Good. Now, you need to rest.”

She tensed up as he starts to walk her toward the room again. “I—I can’t. They’re – still – still in there.”

“I know, Darling. They’re there so understand I am serious about all of this Kate.” He eased her toward the bed and clicked his tongue at her discarded IV “You needed this.” He moved it slowly out of the way and shucked back the covers, lowering her delicately into the bed and tucking the covers around her. “I don’t want to hurt you Kate. I want to keep you safe, but if you keep lying and lying and fighting and fighting.” He paced to the end of the bed and lightly kicked one of the corpses. “Understand.”

She closed her eyes and took another shaky breath. “Yes.”

A sweet smile spread across his face. “Good.” He walked out the room like nothing had happened. “I’ll send a nurse to tend to you. Rest.”

Kate curled into a ball and resumed crying. Who knew she even had tears left.

 

* * *

 

 

Blinding pain. That was the first sensation she felt upon waking. She didn’t remember passing out, but she never did. When James was unhappy, he hurt her. He was always unhappy. This time she had not answered quickly enough when he asked the all too familiar question, “What are you?” She dared to pause, hating the taste of the word, “Yours” on her tongue. When she hesitated, he grabbed her by the throat, slowly and evenly squeezing, tutting his tongue and chastising as he slowly cut off her air. “Why must you makes things difficult for yourself Mary Katharine?” He had started using her full name when he lectured her. She began to speak and he tossed her backward, knocking the wind from her body as she hit the floor. “Rhetorical!” He paced astride her prone body. “Maybe you don’t know the difference between an actual question and a rhetorical question. Maybe that is why you keep making her hurt you.” He stopped and placed his foot on her chest. “Can you tell me the difference between the two, Mary Katharine?” All she could manage was a whimper as he slowly applied weight to his foot. “Wrong!”  He moved his foot and moved to kneel over her, pinning her to the floor his weight. “A rhetorical question is what I use to point out when you are being stupid. Because you can be so very, very stupid, Mary Katharine.” He brought both hands to her throat again. Slowly fanning his fingers as clasp her neck. Lightly stroking his thumbs down the tender strip of flesh from her chin to her chest. “When I ask you an actual question, it is because I want your honest answer. I don’t want you to lie to me, Mary Katharine, never lie to me.” His thumbs found the soft indentation in her throat. “What are you?” She let out a short moan, his thumbs pressing into her as she tried to speak.

 

She managed a croaking “Yours.” followed by a sharp gasp as he lifted her slightly and smacked her head back onto the floor. 

 

“Lying! You’re lying to me Mary Katharine. You say the word but you don’t mean it. Show me you mean it.” He began to press again. She balled up all her will and started to struggle now, clawing at his arm, trying to push him off. She was far to weak to be successful, he knew that, but it was far more fun when she fought to live. “There she is, there’s my Kate. If you are truly mine, if you truly believed it, you wouldn’t let me kill you. That’s what is happening right now, you have to show me Kate, because I am going to kill you.” The even calmness of this voice was always the most terrifying part. He never lied to her. Of all the horrible things he had done. He never lied. So when he said he was going to kill her if she did not prove she wanted to live, it was the truth. She bucked as aggressively as her bruised and beaten body could muster. She kicked at the air behind him, struggling for her heels to find enough purchase of the ground, just enough that she could try to really lift her lower body up. He continued to slowly press in his thumbs until she could no longer breathe. This felt like the end. Her mind rushed over the thought, “I’m going to die.” and with one last burst, her heels dug into the floor and she shot her body up as hard as she could. It was enough to make him rock a bit, it was enough to make his remove his hands. “Good! See I knew you wanted to live. Now,” He rose to his feet. “What are you?”

Without hesitation this time she rasped out, “Yours.” 

“Good girl.” He stood and strode away from her. “Follow.”

She drew a shuddering breath as she rolled onto her knees and struggled to her feet. She straightened as much as she could, folding her arms around her narrowing midsection, and followed him. She rolled around in her mind the various trials that would await her at the end of this slow walk to her room. “James?” she whispered, leaning briefly against the wall as her legs went wobbly.

 

He stopped and sighed, turning slowly back to her. “Yes, Mary Katharine.” 

 

She tensed at the name. “James, I--” she tried to steady her voice. “I need--” she was having a hard time thinking of what to say, she wanted to find the right words to get her out of trouble and into her bed. Her body needed to heal. “Please.”

 

Two steps. It took two steps for him to have her pinned to the wall. “Please. Please, James. Please.” He mocked her tone, making her sound less wounded and more like a simpering child who was not getting her way. “What do you think you need, Mary Katharine?”

 

She locked eyes with him, taking as deep a breath as her bruised ribs would allow. “I’m tired, James, please, I can’t.”

 

His demeanor softened, she couldn’t decide if that was better or worse. “Okay, my baby Kate, you’ve had a long day haven’t you?” He lightly brushed the hair off her cheek and she used every ounce of her will to not flinch away from this hand. She also didn’t reply, she felt this was one of those rhetorical question situations. He smiled, “She’s learning. Good girl. Let’s do this, let’s go to my room and rest a bit.” the smile oozed into an oily, lascivious smirk. 

 

She closed her eyes and steeled herself. “Please, James, I-I can’t handle anymore today,” her mind rolled around ideas, ways to stroke his ego, words to make her seem better, to make her sound good. Words that would not get her hit. “I know that it is not my choice, that I am yours and that I must listen and obey, but I am so very tired, James, I just don’t know if I can survive more today. I hurt, I am damaged, I am no good to you or for you like this. Let me heal so I can be more for you.” she made a bold move and rested her head forward onto his chest. “Please.” 

She held her breath and hoped this would earn her even the smallest of reprieve. It earned her time in the cupboard. 

 

He took her by the wrist and she went practically limp, forcing him to drag her down the hall as he yanked the door open. “Just remember, I offered you my bed, and you begged leave me. Think about that while you wait for me in here.” He tossed her roughly into the narrow cupboard, the last thing she remembered her head knocking on the wall before she slid slowly down it.

 

She began to lightly beat on the door once she had fully regained consciousness. She knew she needed to get out and try to make him happy, she needed to stop fighting, to stop trying to aggravate him, to push down all the feeling of fear and revulsion, she needed to survive. She beat a little harder. “James.” She was barely able to make her voice audible. She stopped and focused, trying to pull herself off the ground. She considered testing the doorknob, but knew it would be locked, he didn’t trust her to stay where he put her. She was always wandering off and trying to escape. She needed to stop that. She leaned on the wall and rattled the door, “James, please, I’m sorry, please.” 

 

The door flung open and she squinted against the light. “Why are you sorry?”

 

“I was being selfish, I was being childish,” she pushed off the wall and felt her body sway as she tried to stand tall. “You corrected me and I still fought you. I am sorry, I was not listening.” 

 

He studied her face, he saw her exhaustion, her defeat. This was promising. He gently took her arm and led her out of the closet before sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her down the hall. “Good, now you may rest.”

 

It was a steady campaign after that. Learning what made him be cruel and what made him be kind.

She was coming to terms quickly with the fact that there were now only three constants in her life. James, his moods, and Rose, her permanent nurse.

At least she had Rose. She was making things a little easier.

“You’re healing nicely.” Rose smiled at Kate, checking her wrist, neck and ribs. His favorite places to hurt her. Lowering her voice to a whisper. “Has he hurt you?”

Kate just shook her head. She had been careful and lucky. She was starting to learn the game. Do what James says, don’t try to trick him, and don’t get hurt or worse. Easy.

 

Rose didn’t believe her.

“If he hurts you, tell me, please.” She leaned in close, urgent, resting a calming hand on Kate’s knee, trying to get her to talk. “You’re almost better and I can get you help, but I need to know when he hurts you. It will take time but you’re in real dang—“

“Now look at this cozy little scene.” James was leaning on the door frame, arms crossed. A flash in his eyes that told Kate that nothing good could come of this.

“Just—tending to her like you told me to, Sir.”

“Tsk tsk Rose, I don’t like being lied to.” He crossed to them in a heartbeat. “Kate, my darling, how are you feeling? Better? Good. Rose, come with me.”

Kate’s eyes went wide. “James, please. I didn’t. She didn’t. I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely a whisper, she was learning, she knew what the dead look in his eyes meant in this moment. Rose was not safe.

“Now, now my darling,” He reached over to pat her knee almost tenderly removing Rose’s hand and pulling the nurse to her feet, “don’t make this harder.  It’s time to say goodbye to Rose.” 

“Please, I’m sorry!”

James took Rose by the elbow and steered her out of the room, looking back at Kate over his shoulder. “We’ll discuss this later, Mary Katharine. Now SHUSH!”  And with that command, he was out of the room, the door slamming with a heavy thud to punctuate the finality of his words, taking away the one connection to something like hope that Kate had.

“So, Rose – “He pressed her into the chair opposite his desk, digging his fingers into her shoulders. “Telling my Katie pretty little lies? You’re going to save her? Why on earth do you think she needs saved? She is perfectly safe. No one can take care of her better than I can.” He continued the death grip on her shoulders, pinning her into her seat.

Rose’s demeanor slipped into almost deadly calm. “I am pretty sure you are the least safe person in the world, James. I agreed to help you because I swallowed your lies about her being hurt working for you. I didn’t understand at first why you called me, being a nursemaid is not exactly my specialty, but I came, because it was you, I just don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”

He released her and moved before her, leaning on his desk. “Because I can. I am a man who gets what he wants Rose. A man who eliminates the obstacles to what he wants. You dear, are an obstacle. Your services are no longer needed.”

Rose closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Feeling the panic rise in her throat, knowing what happens when James decides he no longer needs your service. “Okay, I’ll leave, I’ll go and I won’t say anything. I swear.” She watched his eyes go to the door behind her, seeing the two large men enter and move closer. “Please, James.”

They took her by the arms and she let out a shriek. “Bye bye now.” He waved as they dragged her out the door.

Katie heard the shriek and struggles and rushed back to the bed, burying her face into the pillows. James’ words from the first night in her head. No one touches what's mine. Poor Rose, she came too close, she touched the part of her that James most feared, she touched the part of Kate that still believed she would get out of this alive.


	3. Acceptance

Time started to blend together. Kate couldn’t say how long she had been there. She was never allowed to leave and she had stopped counting the days early on, never knowing how long she slept, many times sleeping off the drugs she was sure were slipped into her food.

The paranoia was the first to arrive, every sound was a threat, and every word laced with meaning that she was sure was a lie or trick. She would avoid eating for days at a time until he would make her eat. She would fight sleep until she was knocked out. She would remain silent when he spoke to her and take his violent outbursts that followed her petulance with what little strength she had.

It didn’t take long however for her will to start to dissolve. The silence, starvation, and fighting started to wear on her once he had opted to allow her to torture herself if she so desperately insisted that that was how she wanted to live. He just ignored her protests, knowing that if he simply stopped offering her food when she refused to eat, kept all the lights in her room on when she refused to sleep, left her alone and totally isolated when she refused to speak, she would eventually crack at the seams and look for ways to easy her own torment. Then he would be the kind and gentle balm to soothe her growing madness. Much less work.

It worked faster than if he’d had to torment her himself. She was very fun.

Eventually she settled into a routine of self-soothing and pain avoidance. She tried to keep to her room, even though it was depressing and lonely. Knowing that when she was not in her safe haven of four walls, she was more likely to cause him to lash out.  She craved the company of other people, but all there was, was James. He would have visitors and she would hear them coming and going, occasionally sneaking out to try to make contact with someone, anyone. To her dismay James always seemed to squash that. Sharp snaps of “Mary Katharine, Go to your room!” when she would creep into the hall to see who was coming in, making her shrink back and close the door, disheartened.

At least, as the weeks wore on and she started to understand the rules of this new life with him, it felt like James was starting to really care for her. In the beginning, everything was a threat. Everything was two options, behave, or die. However, over the, weeks, months, whatever it had been, who knew anymore, when she wasn’t staging a protest or trying to sneak out to talk to someone, James treated her fairly. There were still times when he would snap and lash out, but the span of time between those moments were becoming longer and the times when he would be sweet and treat her like she was his world were growing longer and more frequent. Under different circumstances, one could almost say it felt like they were falling in love.

When she woke one particular morning, she was feeling light, the night before had been different and lovely, rather than spending the night alone, curled in her bed and reading alone, she stood in her doorway and softly called for him. “James?” 

 

He came out of his office to check on her, “Yes Kate.”

 

“M-may I come out of my room tonight?”

 

He tilted his head, and let half a smile creep across his face. “I have work to do my darling, it will be incredibly boring.” 

 

She frowned, it shocked her that she had this innate reaction. Her first reaction wasn’t to fight or pout, wasn’t to struggle or run. She just frowned in genuine disappointment. “Oh, I understand.” She turned back into her room and started for her bed.

 

He was equally shocked, he was starting to know all her moods, when she was playing along, when she was fighting, when she was breaking. This was a pleasant surprise. “Maybe my work can wait.”

 

James stepped closer and took her hand, leading her into the den and pulling her down her him onto the couch. He reached behind the couch and deftly punched the right series of buttons on an overly complicated looking remote control. A panel shifted and the TV behind it came alight. “What would you like to watch?” He asked, she was confused. Were they just going to curl up and watch TV. Like some normal couple on a Tuesday night. He gently pulled her to him, urging her head onto his chest and draping his free arm around her shoulder.  She was uncomfortable at first, not used to physical contact with him that didn’t lead to her making a mistake and ending with her in tears or pain. This was gentle and sweet, he just held her. 

 

She hadn’t watched TV since before he, she stopped the thought, don’t think about the time before. “Can we watch RuPaul’s Drag Race?” 

 

He laughed “Okay.” 

 

They barely spoke but it was nice. She didn’t remember falling asleep against him, but she soon realized as she was waking up, that she was not in her room, but instead it a larger, more ornately decorated bedroom, with her head on his chest. Her eyes went wide and a little wild as she tried to slide from the bed and not wake him, she was sure that she was not allowed to be there.

He stirred, making her tense and still. He simply smiled and scrubbed the sleep off his face, looking at her. “Good Morning, Darling, you nodded off on our little date and it just made me want to keep holding you.” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and slowly slipped from underneath her. “Now, my darling, it’s time for breakfast. Come now.”

She obeyed and followed, as was becoming her way of life. Obeying and following. Avoiding the shift from sweet to striking serpent. But this still felt different, he pulled her almost playfully by the hand into the kitchen and plopping her down on a stool and kissing her temple. If she let her mind relax, this felt wonderful. He began to busy himself preparing food, humming softly and occasionally smiling back at her and sending an odd flutter through her. He set a bowl of strawberries in front of her and handed one to her “Eat.” She nibbled and continued to watch, smiling at the slight man buzzing around the giant kitchen in his pajama pants, making eggs, acting delightfully domestic. Why did this feel so normal? It felt, right. Her brow knitted in worry.

“James?” Kate finally whispered feeling a clench in her stomach at what she was about to say him, the underlying fear that usually trickled through every interaction they had still humming very softly in the background, but a new glow overshadowing it, a glow that started spreading from the night before while she was wrapped in his arms. “Do—Do you love me?”

He turned languidly and leaned over the counter with a slight chuckle to kiss her softly on the cheek before going back to his work. “Of course I do.”

She sighed softly. Soothed by this and soldiered on. “Why?” Tears pricked her eye, she had no idea why she was so afraid he would say no.

He laughed gently, shaking his head and continuing his preparations without turning to her “Because you’re mine.”

She gently wiped her eyes as he turned around to set juice in front of her. He quietly tutted and patted her hand, seeing the tears. “None of that now, darling.” Raising her hand to place a soft kiss on her palm before yet again going back to cooking. His voice was so soft she almost didn’t hear it. “Do you love me?”

Her breath caught in her throat. “What?”

He still didn’t turn, but cleared his throat and asked louder. “Do you love me?”

She answered reflexively. No hesitation, no fight, no pretense.  “I am yours.” 

He chuckled again, “Such a good girl, but that’s not I asked you.” He turned around slowly, prowling toward her. “Do you love me?” Her throat went dry as he stalked her like a wild beast. “Answer me, Mary Katharine.”

She tensed hearing the name he only used when she was being bad. It instantly sent her into a string of babbling apology. “I’m sorry, James. I’m sorry. I’ll answer. I’m sorry. I love you.” It was out of her mouth before she even realized she’d said it. He was against her back now, arms around her waist, spinning her toward him to look into her eyes, an almost sickening mix of glee and menace in them, resting a hand on her cheek.

“Calm down, Kate. Deep breath. I didn’t mean to startle you.” His arms caged her between him and the counter. “Kate, my darling Kate, Do you love me?”

Her breathing settled and she looked deeply into his eyes. Startling herself a bit as the answer slipped from her lips and she knew it was true. “I love you, James.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before leaning back with a smile and finishing cooking.

“Good.”

It was their first kiss.

 

* * *

 

It had all worked. She had to be broken down to be rebuild. The rebuilding was the easy part now. He still hurt her now and again. That was just his way. Love hurts. But now, it was not the intense near death violence. There was a small flicker inside him every time he hurt her like that. A small voice that asked him why he had to be like this, why he couldn’t just let her know the real man. Why did he have to break her down to nothing to know that she loved him truly? 

 

He pushed that voice aside, and went about the happy trail that was falling deeply in love and shaping her mind and soul. She was so pliable now. So willing, and loving. So sweet and over time, wicked. A wonderful kind of wicked that made him smile. 

 

He had gotten her her own staff of sorts to care for her when he was busy or not in the apartment. He made sure that she wanted for nothing. Spoiling his sweet Kate rotten, knowing that even when she was spoiled, she still obeyed him. It was a rush. But there were also limits and expectations on her and her behavior. He still kept his business private. She was still relegated to her room when he had company. Her interaction with the real world was limited to him, his hand picked staff for her, at the limited amount of access she had to luxuries like TV shows and films. She was expected to treat her staff with courtesy. When she pushed those limits. He was swift to met out the appropriate punishment.

 

“James!” She barged into his office without even a knock. Already, this was off to a bad start. “I don’t like Eliza anymore. All she tells me is no. Can I please have a snack, Eliza? No, Dinner is in an hour. Can I please eat dinner out here, I am enjoying this movie? No, heathens eat on the sofa. I mean really, what am I a child?!” 

 

James closed his laptop and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, you are.”

 

“That was rhetorical James.” Kate’s hands settled on her hip and her face locked in a defiant pout.

 

He sighed and rose from his desk, walking toward her with unerring calm. “Mary Katharine, is this really a discussion you want to have again?” 

 

Her hands dropped, the flash of memory washing over her face. The feeling of his thumbs slowly cutting off her air. She swallowed. “No, Daddy. I’m sorry. I just. It doesn’t seem fair.”

 

He chuckled darkly, “My dear little Mary Katharine, you are dancing on very thin ice here. You say you are sorry, and yet here you stand, having barged into my office, whined about the staff I hired to care for you, and then got lippy and indignant. Are you truly sorry, or are you lying again, saying what you think I want to hear?” As he spoke, he moved closer and closer until there was little more than a breath between them. 

 

She started to open her mouth, but thought the better of it. However, opening her mouth was enough to earn a firm hand across her face. 

 

“Remember the difference Mary Katharine, that one was rhetorical, this one is not. What rules have you just broken?”

 

She looked at her feet and rubbed her cheek, not wanting to answer, but knowing that silence would just make the punishment worse. Almost mechanically she began to list off the rules she had breached, “I am to knock if I want to see you when you are in your office. I am not allowed in your office without permission. I am not to be mean to or back-sass the staff. I am not to back-sass you, I am not to lie to you. I think that’s all of it.” She was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Maybe she was a child now. As she thought about these rules that she had so willingly adhered to most of the time, they seemed like the rules a child had. How to act, where to be, when to be there. He controlled everything and everyone in her life. 

 

“Go to your room and wait for me Mary Katharine. Sit in your room and think about those rules. I will be there to deal with you shortly.”

 

“Yes, Daddy.” So, feeling every bit like a scolded child. Kate went to her room, to wait.

 

This was her life now. Sure, she would never like Eliza, but James fired her shortly after that incident and brought in someone who coddled and babied his darling Kate. She was  kept, owned, babied, and unaware of how this had fundamentally changed her. How it had made her slightly mad.

 

* * *

 

And that was how they got to where they were now. Kate, wild eyed and excited to be flying with him back to his home in London. Nuzzling him on the plane and giggling at the excitement of it all.

“You’re awfully wound up this morning, poppet. What’s gotten into you?” Patting her hand pulling her away just a bit. He needed to focus.

“I’ve never been on a plane.” She blushed and covered her face, laughing into her hands. “Is that stupid?”

“Never stupid, but calm down now, Daddy needs to focus.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She kissed his cheek and settled her head on his shoulder. “Do they know you’re coming back?”

“I think they got the message.” He chuckled darkly at his image on the screen in front of them. “I think they missed me.”


	4. Photo Break

Took a moment to make a couple pictures of how I picture James and Kate.


	5. Homecoming

Sherlock disembarked the plane and was ushered into the waiting car. “We need to get to Bart’s. Now!” he said before staring out the window in silence.

 

* * *

 

Molly gasped and ran toward the door. The video droning in the background and sending pure terror through her. Something told her she needed to find a safe place. She pulled out her cellphone and with shaking hands trying to figure out who to call. With a mighty thunk she ran headlong into the door as it swung open and she crumpled to floor, scrambling for her phone and rubbing her throbbing face.

“Sorry, sorry, I just, I need to get by please.” Molly started to right herself looking up at the slender wide eyed girl in the door.

“Molly Hooper?” Kate slid into the room with a maniacal grace and false innocence. “He said you were cute.”

“Yes, what, thank you, who?” The words rushed out of her mouth, half ignoring the girl and backing up a little as she continues to look for her phone. Kate spied it first and picked it up, flipping it casually in her hand a couple times before letting it drop to the floor and cracking the screen to bits with her shoe.

“My James. He said you were a cute little mouse.” She advanced on the now stammering young pathologist. “Was that all it took to let him slither between your thighs little mousey?” She had her pressed to the table now, her mouth right up against her ear, slipping a loose strand of hair behind the tense girl’s ear. Molly patted behind her back, for once glad she had not had the chance to tidy. Her palm curling around a scalpel. Kate nuzzled in and kissed her just below the ear, whispering so softly, “He told me all about you. I think he wanted to make me jealous.” Kate pressed her temple to Molly’s, feeling the tension radiating off the girl.

“Who are you?” Molly whispered, putting on a brave shell and squeezing the tool so hard in her hand it was digging it.

Kate shot back, a look of mock surprise and horror on her face. “Oh my goodness, I’m being rude! I’m Kate Moriarty.” She extended her hand out to the girl, a wicked grin oozing across her face. Molly took the window to try to break free, quickly swinging the blade at the girl.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Kate scolded, grabbing Molly by the wrist quickly and stripping the scalpel from her hand from below, the blade slicing down the palm as it slipped out of Molly’s sweaty grasp. She shrieked in pain and curled her arm to her chest, clenching her now bloody fist closed tight.

“Now look what you did!?!” Kate shouted grabbed the injured arm. “I’m going to get into such trouble for this.” She seethed. Her personality ricocheting from terrifying evil to frightened child in a blink, “Daddy told me not to hurt the mouse.” Her eyes scoured the room around her, dragging Molly behind her forcefully by the wrist. Blood leaving a trail wherever they walked. She found a roll of gauze and began to wrap it quickly around the cut, leaving a gentle kiss on the bandage after the tucked in the loose end. “There, all better. The little mouse is all better now. All better.” She stroked Molly’s hair and looked pleadingly into her eyes, squeezing her wrist “I’m sorry little mousey, Please, don’t tell Daddy. He’ll be oh so cross, PLEASE!” She was stammering with panic.

Molly was scared and confused. “I won’t, please. Y-you don’t have to do this.” Pulling at her wrist and trying to twist free. “I won’t say a word, I promise, just, just let me go now okay?”

Snapping back to her senses, needing to obey, Kate tightened her grip on Molly’s wrist and spun her in pinning the terrified girl against her now. “It’s okay little mousey. Daddy just need you to come with for a little talk.” Molly whimpered as Kate grabbed the scalpel and rested it against Molly’s throat, Molly tensed and tried to think of a way to slip free. “I’m not supposed to hurt the mouse, remember! Off we go, don’t want to keep them waiting.”

They walked out of the lab and toward the elevators. Heading to the roof.

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock burst into the lab, John and Mary in tow. His eyes scanning the scene quickly, fists and jaw clenched tight. He saw blood and knelt down. His voice steely, dark, and calm. “John, get Mary out of here. He has Molly.”

Mary gasped and moved closer to John. The soldier steeled himself. “What can I do?”

Sherlock rose and swept out of the room, talking over his shoulder, “Get your wife out of here. I have to find Molly.”

He wasn’t sure why, but he knew this was all going to play out where it left off. On the roof.

 

* * *

 

 

The scene was all too familiar as he opened the door. His nemesis sat of the ledge, in a crisp tailored suit, looking bored and menacing in equal measure.

“So here we are again. Death was so boring.” Sherlock didn’t wait for the usual maniacal babble, he stormed to the ledge and grabbed James by the lapels, pushing backwards making the madman teeter on the edge. James just laughed.

“Now, now, if you push me off you’ll never find little Miss Hooper.”

Sherlock released him and stepped back, pacing like a caged animal.

“Wow,” James teased, tilting his head to the side, “who knew you cared so much about your little pathologist.”

“Where is she?” Sherlock leveled himself, keeping his voice calm.

“Awe, you don’t want to catch up first?” James straightened himself and paced over to Sherlock, walking in a lazy circle.  “So much has happened. Don’t you even wonder how I am here? I mean, the last time we had a date up here on the roof—“He grabbed Sherlock’s hand and put his own fingers in his mouth and pretended to shoot and fall backward. “Good times.”

“Where. Is. Molly.” Sherlock asked again, shaking loose from James’ grip and stepping back, pulling the gun from his pocket and placing it squarely to James’ forehead. James just laughed. “If you’ve been paying attention, you’ll know I have no problem shooting someone in the head if they are a threat to my friends. So I will ask one more time. Where is Molly?”

James sighed and snapped his fingers motioning with his eyes to his right as Kate walked Molly out from where they had been concealed. Sherlock looked over to see the two women. Molly had a scalpel at her throat.

“So, now that you see she is safe in the arms of my lovely wife. Can we talk?” James asked gently pushing the gun from his forehead with two fingers.

“Wife?” Sherlock asked, turning back and re-positioning the gun.

The woman laughed and extended her hand for a moment, flashing the brilliantly sparkling ring on her finger for the men to see, “Yessir, Kate Moriarty. Pleasure.”

Sherlock’s eyes bore into James. “So you’ve gotten tied down? Have sentimental thoughts of being some kind of morbid Bonnie and Clyde, have you?”

James smiles up at him before walking toward the women, Sherlock’s gun trained on his every move. “Are you Bonny Kate? Sometimes Kate the curst, but Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, Kate of Kate Hall, my super dainty Kate.” He slid behind the two, pressing a kiss to Kate’s cheek and nuzzling like against her like an innocent but far too amorous teenager, as she tightened her grip on Molly and pressed the scalpel slightly into the mewling girl’s neck, drawing just a faint line of blood.

Molly started softly crying, being locked in this sadistic little three-way they were painting. James finally broke from his bubble of affection with Kate and paced fully around them, noticing the pathologist’s hand, the gauze soaked in blood, held in a death grip to her midsection by Kate as Molly shook. His look sliding from whimsical to something more cold and dark. “Mary Katharine? What did Daddy say about hurting the mouse?” He stepped into them, nearly pressing himself into the pair.

Kate started to pout, looking every bit like a naughty child. “She started it.” Giving the girl a little shake. “Tell him, you started it and you are all better!”

It was then that he noticed the blood on her throat as well “What did Daddy say about hurting the mouse?” He asked again, jaw tense, his words dripping with malevolence, making Kate’s eyes go wide and her breath hitch. Molly could feel the other shaking slightly behind her before grip on her settled and became painfully tight. She whimpered as the girl finally spoke.

“Don’t hurt the mouse.” Kate repeated with the same cold darkness.

He stepped back from them and gave Kate a look that made her slightly loosen her grip and pull the blade away from Molly’s throat. “We’ll talk about this later Mary Katharine.”

Sherlock edged closer as they spoke. Eyes flicking to Molly’s to make sure she was okay. “If you are done having your little domestic—“He pressed the gun to the back of his head this time. “Let. Her. Go.”

James spun around, knocking the gun aside. “Will you stop with that, you’re not going to shoot me, if you do Kate will kill Molly and we all know you won’t let that happen. STOP SHOWING OFF!” Sherlock lowered the gun, holding it down at his side. “You really take all the fun out of the game sometimes Sherlock. Boring old Sherlock, making demands and pulling out guns when all we wanted to do was catch up and share all the happy news.” James turned back to the women, running a hand down Molly’s cheek, ignoring the jealous dig of the blade Kate gave her as punishment for it. “I made such a mistake last time Miss Hooper. Here I thought you were just something handy to have around. Thought you were nothing more to him than some extra piece of equipment in the lab that had grown the ability to speak and fetch coffee. Oh, the mistakes we make when we’re blinded by obsession. You know about obsession don’t you little mouse?”

Sherlock’s jaw and grip on the gun tightened, never taking his eyes off Molly’s. “Stop. Please, Jim” She whispered.

“Silly Molly, I know now what this has all been leading to, let’s see if you two have caught on yet.” He rested his hand on Kate’s “I think it’s time to go home Kate. Spoil sport here doesn’t want to play right now. Let. Her. Go.” He laughed to himself.

He turned the pair around and patted Kate on the rear end. Molly whimpered softly, her eyes still locked on Sherlock as the trio turned and moved toward the door. James snapped his fingers finally and Kate lowered the blade and spun Molly out from her, letting the shocked girl fall to her knees by the door, shaking. Sherlock was at her side, looking at her hand, gently pressing a handkerchief to her throat, and checking for her over for other injuries, muttering softly as the other pair moved down the stairs and out of sight. “I’m sorry, Molly.”

“It’s okay. It’s not as bad as it looks, but Sherlock,” she felt a rush of daring under the ebbing fear. Resting her uninjured hand briefly on his cheek. “You have to stop him. That girl, I don’t know what he did to her, but you have to stop him. No one is safe with him here and I think that girl is just making that worse.  I think he would burn the world for her.”

“I know.” He stood up quickly and ran to the door, they’d disappeared while he was attending to her. He growled slightly and spun back, helping her to her feet and as gently as he could led her off to safety.

 

* * *

 

 

James rushed them down the stairs and into an elevator. Smashing the basement button as he spun her inside until she was against the back wall, making her giggle.

He prowled over to her, pressing her to the wall with his full weight and kissing her with such fire is burned all the breath from her body.

Breaking the kiss he rolled next to her and took her hand into his. “Now, Mary Katharine – What happened with the mouse?” The doors dinged open and he strode with her toward the pathology lab. Katie tensed. Sputtering her reply as he dragged her by the wrist behind him, trying to pull away at first but realizing that his grip was always stronger than her pull.

“She was a big brave mouse and tried to cut me with a scalpel. I just took it away from her. I didn’t mean to hurt her I swear. She started it!” He stalked room and found the mess and blood.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head “But you still hurt her, Mary Katharine.” He pulled her in very close digging his fingers into her wrist. “I told you not to and you did. You know what happens.” He release her wrist and stepped away briefly as she started to sniff, knowing that was coming.

She mumbled in barely a whisper, her eyes pressing shut and holding her hand in place where he left it. “When people don’t listen to you, you get unhappy. When you get unhappy, the people who don’t listen get hurt.” Another mantra in her world. The words flowing from her with an ease born of repetition. She steeled herself as he walked back to her, scalpel in hand.

She tried not to cry or wince as she felt him hold her hand palm up and with eerie grace, lightly ran a blade over her palm. Mirroring the injury she had accidentally inflicted on the other girl. Her eyes popped open at the sharp sting, hissing as she stared down and the thin line of red blossoming on her palm. “I’m sorry.”

He kissed just above the cut and set to wrapping her hand gently. “I know.”

Wrapping her into his arms, they walked away together, her head nestled in the crook of his neck as they walked. She felt forgiven.

 

* * *

 

John hadn’t listened. Mary huddled to him in the lobby of the large hospital shivering as he talked away on his phone.

“When we got to the lab, she wasn’t there. He ran off in a flutter of bravado and coat and – yeah I don’t know” He rubbed his face and pulled Mary in closer. “Yes, we will, I see the car now.”

He felt Mary tense at his side and followed her eyes, seeing James stroll through the lobby with a girl he did not know under his arm. He lurched a little and Mary stopped him with a hand to his chest. “John, don’t, we have to find Sher—“her words stopped as the girl turned and caught her eyes. “Oh God. W-we have to find them. Now.”

John looked at his phone and quickly stashed it in his pocket. “I know where.” John stumbled slightly as Mary spun quickly and pulled them away from the pair striding away. Hearing the girl gasp and say something as she nearly broke into a run. This was getting worse every second.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock eased Molly into a chair and started to pace, pulling his phone out to text John.

‘Room 504. Hurry.’

He noticed Molly out of the corner of his eye, curled in a ball and rocking slowly and muttering to herself. “How, how is he here, he was dead, but technically so were you, well not really, but how, and why, I, he, oh God.” He moved to her side again. He almost put a hand on her shoulder, but was unsure if that or anything would help the fear he felt radiating off her.

“I don’t know how Molly, but I will figure this out. I promise you that.”

John and Mary burst into the room moments later. The two men exchanging looks.

Sherlock answered the unspoken question. “I don’t know, John, for once I don’t know.”

Mary answered in barely a whisper. “I think I know.”

 

* * *

 

  
Kate gasped as she locked eyes with the woman in the lobby. It can’t be, it just couldn’t be. “Rose?”


	6. Explanations

“What do you mean Mary?” John asked, his eyes wide with confusion.

She didn’t say a word, she just locked eyes with Sherlock.

Sherlock stalked slowly over to Mary, “John, take the car Mycroft sent, get Molly’s things from her flat and go to Baker Street. Lestrade should already be there with Mrs. Hudson. We need to regroup and make sure everyone is in one place.”

“No! I want to know what she means!” John looked the picture of fury and panic. “Mary?”

“I think you know what she means John, now please, get Molly out of here.”

“Please, John,” she tried to keep expression soft. This was a dangerous line to walk anymore. The past pressed persistently on the fragile seams of their still tense reconciliation. “Make sure they’re safe. We’ll be there.” She peeled her gaze away from the man stalking toward her. “Please?”

Realization spread through his mind as John watched for a beat, unsure of what to do, he knew deep down they needed to all make sure everyone was safe, but why did his wife, the mother of his child, always have to make him so scared that she was something they should also fear.

“Yeah, right, Molly? Are you okay?” He gave her his hand and pulled her up slowly from the chair. “We need to get to someplace safer.”

He steered her out of the room, looking back one more time at the two most important people in his life, squaring off.

 

* * *

 

James picked up speed, trying to get Kate out of the hospital and into the waiting car as quickly as possible.

“James that was Rose. I swear! I’m not crazy, why is Rose here? She can’t be, she just can’t be, you took her away from me!” She started to grow more frantic and violent, shoving against him, lashing out with nails and fists as he slid her into the car. “James! You took her away from me! Why? Why is she here?!”

He grabbed both her wrists and pinned her to the seat. Forgetting about her hand as he pressed her down with all his force, trying to tame the bucking and shrieking girl. “Mary Katharine STOP! This whole thing just got FAR more complicated than I knew and I can’t handle you SCREAMING AT ME RIGHT NOW! STOP!”

Kate was panting and struggling beneath him, not willing to relent this time. Rose had been her lifeline that he had ripped away. Seeing her standing there, alive, shook Kate. It reminded her of a time before and the thoughts that ran roughshod through her head were making her feel sick. Her mind cried to shut down, to lock all of that out, to push those memories of a time when she almost didn’t stay with this man that she had somehow grown to love. But did she love him? If Rose was still alive, was all of this just a lie?

Finally the weight of him and the pain of being pressed to the seat, his fingers digging into her, bruising her wrists, was too much and she slumped under him, returning to some sort of docility. It was eerily quiet.  The sudden snap from frantic to calm, startled James, almost scared him. This was the girl he had made, someone just as turbulent as himself.

“I’m sorry Kate.” He stroked the hair gently from her forehead. “We need to regroup.”

 

* * *

 

“How long have you known?”

“Since a little before you came back.”

 

* * *

 

Rose had made herself an entirely new life. New name, new friends, new city. It was a comfortable life and she had even met and started to fall for a wonderful man. A sad, damaged wonderful man. And then her phone rang.

She looked at the screen, a blocked call. She ignored it.

Thankfully, her reflexes never relaxed over the years. Her head snapped following the whoosh and sharp pop as the glass behind her shattered. She had a text.

‘Don’t ignore my calls. – M”

It rang again.

“I’m retired.” She said quickly, before lowering the phone to end the call. The voice on the other end was sharp and clear.

“If you hang up you will have a bullet through your head before your mobile is in your pocket.” She brought the phone back up to her ear.

“And if you keep talking I will figure out where your gun is and take him out myself. I don’t like talking with a gun at my head. Call him off and we’ll talk.”

She waiting, looking at her nails, waving in the direction she was sure the sniper was watching her from. “Are we clear?”

“Yes, I need you, Luv.”

“I’m retired Jim. I don’t do that type of work anymore.”

“I’m not asking you to kill anyone, I’m asking you to help me save someone.”

She ran a hand over her face and thought about her life. Her safe, comfortable new life.

“If you don’t help me, I can, and will, take that all away from you Rose.”

“Where do you need me?”

 

* * *

 

“I didn’t have much choice. I guess you never retire. You never get the quiet happy life with someone so wonderful when you have done the horrible things I have. I helped him take care of a girl that was all it was. He lied to me and said she was like me, that she’d been injured on job, and he cared about her and he wanted to save her and lied and lied. He had taken that girl and was slowly driving her insane. When I got there, she’d been beaten and raped and he’d left her in a room for God knows how long with the corpses of the men who had raped her. I tried to get her out and nearly ended up dead. That was when I knew I would never be safe. So I decided I need to take out the people who knew about my past. Magnussen first, then Moriarty. He just got here too soon.”

“Is that what was on the drive? That you worked for Moriarty?”

“Part of it. I was at the pool Sherlock. I had no idea who John was when I met him, I didn’t realize it until after all of this with Moriarty popped up again. He didn’t know about John and me, I couldn’t let him know. I love him so much Sherlock. I can’t let anyone hurt him.” She laughed darkly to herself. “I love a man once almost blew up. Who knew?”

“Why didn’t you tell me he was alive?”

“Because he’s not your problem. He’s mine.”

 

* * *

 

He knew Rose had returned to London. Letting her live had been one of his few errors in judgment. He had an appreciation for the assassin turned nurse though that just wouldn’t allow him to let her be dispatched by his standard methods. She could go back to her “retirement” after her slip with Kate and he would send for her if he ever needed her again. Fear of him would keep her silent and alive.

But now, she was a problem. No, more than a problem, an enemy. Allied with the only person in the world who could actually destroy him. Married into it. He idly stroked Kate’s hair as she slept curled into his side. He needed to remove the threat before it hurt what was his again. Her existence hurt his Kate, and hurt the delicate balance between them. There was no doubt in his mind about that.

“No—please—I’m sorry—“Kate mumbled and he pulled her in tighter, trying to soothe her through another one of her nightmares.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here.” This whole thing was so much more than he had expected.

He had wanted to break her, to make her dependent on him, bend her will to him, but he hadn’t expected to feel anything other than the satisfaction of accomplishment in having a devoted, if somewhat mindless, pet. What he felt for her was something alien and frightening.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He had the irritating sensation of wanting her to truly be his. Not this warped creation born of something so dark. What started as a game had turned into a true longing to keep her, and the part that truly scared him was that that may never be, and he was the reason why.

He had to take her, to possess her, he didn’t want to love her. He wasn’t capable of that. He didn’t love, he owned. He got what he wanted, when he wanted. But watching her now, through the terrors and nightmares, the torment he had created, he felt an uneasy pang of regret for what he had done to get her to love him.

He had grown to love the calm Kate. The girl who would at first be tense but then ease into his arms and seem content. The Kate who laughed warmly and was just happy to be with him. The Kate that had asked him if he loved her. He hadn’t lied when he told her he did.

He feared the manic Kate, the Kate he had had a very large part in creating, but the two were inseparable now, he had made that happen, he had snapped her mind into one just like his. A mind, broken, that spun from extremity to extremity on a razor’s edge. A mind that had been forced into loving him.

“I love you Kate.” He whispered softly into her hair, kissing her bandaged hand.

“I’m yours, James” she mumbled back in her sleep.

 

* * *

 

Finally back at Baker Street, Mary tensed seeing John’s face. She had gotten John to start talking to her again. He had let her past be her past, now it was here, making people they cared about bleed. She stayed close to the door as Sherlock blew past her to check on Molly.

Everyone but John watched with a bit of awe as he knelt down in front of her chair and pressed a hand to her cheek, speaking softly. “I’m so sorry, Molly. I never wanted you to get pulled into anything like this.”

Molly blushed and stammered, thrown by the genuineness in the affection and tenderness he was showing her. Or maybe she was just still in shock. “I’m okay. It’s okay. I swear.”

“It’s not okay, Molly. It’s very not okay.” He pulled his hand away slowly, as if coming back to earth from wherever he had just been. A place that was just him, and a scared Molly.

He rose slowly, “Right? Is everyone okay?” Snapping completely back into his hardened usual self.

John’s knuckles were almost white on the arm of the chair. His eyes still boring a hole through Mary. He finally let out a dark chuckle. “No Sherlock, we’re not okay.”

“John – I—“Mary swallowed back her words as she looked at him again, feeling heat of his eyes, feeling a wave of nausea.

“Don’t – Just – Don’t.” John stood quickly and left the room, blowing past her and down the stairs.

Sherlock cursed and swept out after him. “John!”

He followed his friend taking long strides to catch up to him, catching up to him on the curb. John stood rigid, staring up at the sky. “Why does this keep happening?!?”

Sherlock took a deep breath and sighed. “John, this isn’t about you and Mary right now. We need to figure what to do here and I’m sorry if this is hard for you, but it’s not about you right now. We need to keep everyone safe, keep her safe.”

“So this is about Molly then? We can’t take a moment to figure out what my WIFE has to do with this because we have to keep checking to see if your pathologist is still okay?”

Sherlock stalked over to his friend. His voice level, cold and scared. “John, I watched a maniac hold a blade to her throat today, I watched the blood start, and all I could think in that moment was that I was about to watch her die. You know me John, you know I don’t get scared, but in that moment, all I could think about was how I can’t lose her.”

John shook his head, shaking off his anger. “You won’t lose her Sherlock. You’ll keep her safe, but I can’t, I just can’t.”

“John, please, it’s not safe, and I can’t lose you either. I talked to Mary, it’s not good, but it’s something we have to process and move past so that we can figure out how to keep all of us safe.”

“Just – Tell me—how long has she known he was alive?”


	7. Restless

Molly hadn’t even realized she had fallen asleep. Stretching slowly and arching her back with a soft mewling moan, it had all been a dream. The lab, the roof, his hand on her cheek so gently, she sighed and curled the pillow under her head, wincing little as her bandaged hand slide beneath her cheek, taking a deep breath and noting, from the warm rich scent, this wasn’t her pillow.

She eased herself to sitting up in the darkened room and her focus pulled to the figure sitting ramrod straight in the chair by the window. “Sherlock?” Her face flushed, shaking off the last remnants of sleep and feeling instantly glad that she was clearly still dressed. Maybe he’d missed the moan.

“You should go back to sleep.” The low rumble of his voice sending a wave through her. “It’s late.” She took a moment to take in the room, the pale green walls bathed in the dim light from the curio, displaying small curious oddities she was too tired to fully catalog, a bookcase, patches of printed wall paper and the periodic table almost lovingly framed on the wall. She was in his bed.

“I can, you should sleep; I can go out to the couch.”

“John is currently occupying the couch.” It took her a moment to process this also, her mind still a fog from the shock of everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. Sensing her questions, he continued. “Mary is in his old room and Lestrade is staying downstairs with Mrs. Hudson. Everyone is safe. You should go back to sleep.”

“You can’t sleep in a chair. Come to bed.” She had simply meant that she would leave and let him sleep, but when she heard the low rumble of a chuckle from across the room, she realized that she’d left out that vital information and had basically just asked Sherlock to bed. “Oh, God.”

“I don’t need to sleep Molly, but thank you for the kind offer.”

Molly once again feels the pang of her foolishness.  He was laughing at her schoolgirl longing for him. Again. She didn’t mean to start crying, but the tears pricked her eyes nonetheless. “I didn’t mean it that way.” The words were barely a whisper and strangled slightly by her tears.

Sherlock felt horrible. He wouldn’t let anyone know, but he had been trying, trying very hard to not hurt Molly anymore. Not since she had slapped sense into him after his foray back into his addictions. He’d hurt her so much, and it wasn’t until he saw the look on her face when she told him to ‘just stop it’, that the fissures of regret really started to tear open. They had been there all along. Buried deep in his mind. Once they opened they stretched all the way back to the Christmas where he destroyed her so easily with his words. He wasn’t sure how or why it had happened, but now, when she hurt, he hurt.

He stood then and crossed silently to the bed. Molly’s tears fell silently as she felt the bed dip gently behind her, not sure what to do. It was then that she felt his hand on her shoulder and she rolled over to face him.

“Wha- what are you doing?” She finally asked, ready for a comment that would shatter this silence.

“Molly, I don’t need sleep, but you do.” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “It hurts me to see you hurting.” With those shy words, he pulled her gently to him, resting a hand on the back of her head as she curled against him and placing a light kiss on the top of her head and whispering, “I’m so sorry I keep hurting you.”

 

* * *

 

James stretched and felt the empty, cold bed under his arms, instantly starting and sitting up. “Kate?” Letting his eyes adjust to the darkened room, he saw her, curled in a tight ball in the chair by the window, her arms wrapped around her knees, her hand, clutching a gun, shaking.

“I need to know James, why is she here?”

He carefully slid off the bed and moved to her slowly. “I let her go Kate.” He gently moved to put his hand on the gun. “She got to close, and I let her go.” He felt the gun steady as she tightened her grip on it.

“You’re not answering me. Why is she here?”

“Because I let her live.” His mouth went dry and she steadied her hand and let the gun turn up toward his chest. “I liked her, she was handy to keep around.”

“Do you love her?” His face twisted into a mask of confusion. “Do you love her more than me? So you sent her away, kept her at a distance so I wouldn’t see the two of you, laughing at me?” Her body tensed as she uncurled her body and stood, pressing the barrel into his sternum. Pressing it rhythmically to punctuate her words. “She was never going to save me because the two of you wanted me to there to laugh at.” Her pupils were blown wide and wild.

He wrapped his hand carefully around hers on the gun, locking his eyes on hers with all the sincerity he had in his being. “Kate, I have never loved anyone—“she pulled back the hammer, making his breath hitch, “except you. I honestly never meant to Kate, but I do. God, I didn’t want to but I do. I wanted to hurt you, to break you, to make you want me more than anything or anyone ever, but I didn’t want to love you. It hurts too much.” His eyes screwed shut as she pressed the gun harder into his chest. His words became rushed and panicked “Jesus, I love you Kate. Only you. Only ever you. Always.”

He released the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding then she dropped the gun and fell into his chest, sobbing. Her body shaking with giant, ugly, wrenching tears. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I’m so sorry I keep hurting you.”

 

* * *

 

In the cold light of morning, curled uncomfortably on the couch, John felt the anger in him slowly fading. Sherlock had explained everything and as the words sunk in, he felt the rage lap at his brain. Everything had been a lie, he had forgiven her, and they had begun the slow process of figuring out how to live life as if nothing had happened. Then there it was, dark and real, looming over them and their future again. He needed time. He’d sat in Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen with a tea and just let everything process before relenting and going back upstairs to sleep on the couch. Sherlock was right, all of their safety was more important than his marriage right now, but he also had a hard time not thinking that Sherlock was more concerned with Molly than anyone else.

“John.” He hadn’t noticed Mary sitting in his old chair until she spoke. He turned to her with a look of defeat.

“I can’t—“

Mary cut him off before he shut her out again. “John, I didn’t expect any of this. Truly, any of it.” She ran a hand over her swollen belly. “You didn’t read about my past and I can never explain how happy I was that you loved and trusted me enough to let that go, and I am so very truly sorry that I couldn’t keep it there.” She leaned back and shifted, attempting in vain to get more comfortable in the chair under the weight of their child shifting inside her as she spoke. Out of reflex, John moved to her side quickly and helped her adjust. She let her hand linger on his. “I don’t deserve you, any of this. The things I have done, I don’t, I just don’t, but now, this,” She moved his hand with her to the smooth massiveness their child created. “I can’t let anything destroy this.” Her eyes widened with panic and fear. The calm, cold assassin long gone now. “We can’t stay here, we have to go, John. We have to get out of here and never look back. Please, say you’ll come with me, please.”

John took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face before leaning in and resting his cheek on where their hands twined on her belly. “I think you’re right.”

 

* * *

 

James let the water run over his face as he took in the heat and steam of the shower. He needed to focus. This was supposed to be simple. He was supposed to come home, destroy Sherlock and the mousy little bint who had made his first plan a failure. Simple. He was even going to do it on the roof where it had always been fated to happen. He was going to burn his past to the ground and then move on to making a whole new world for himself and his wonderfully damaged and beautiful wife. Poetic and simple.

Sure, he could and should have just ended them right there on the roof when he had the luxury of having them exactly where he needed them to be, but he knew it was not going to happen the first time, what was a game that ended so quickly, that first trip was just meant to be confirmation of what he had suspected when Sherlock had not ended up a broken, dead heap after his fall. Sherlock had help, someone who cared enough about him to risk everything, someone he cared enough about to let them take that risk. His enemy was attached to his little ex. The ferocity Sherlock showed on the roof confirmed that, and as James had run Kate from the roof, filled with his post mocking glee and lust, he had been eager to get to the next step. Excited to destroy them.

Then Rose had to show up and become the spanner in the gears. The grit on the lens.

She was not only there, making Kate doubt everything about what they had together, she was with John Watson, married to him. This mucked things up considerably. It had been a battle of genius versus genius. Now the balance was off, it was genius versus genius and assassin. Not fair at all. He needed an assassin, someone he could trust above all others. There was only one person he trusted that much, but he dreaded that call. That was a bridge he had burned, for his own and the other’s safety. No one should be that close to a mad man, Kate was further proof of that and no one should be that close to a hired gun. Those were mistakes he had to keep in the past. Now he had no choice. Sebastian was the only man he trusted to level the playing field. Fuck.

He wrapped himself in a towel and returned to the bedroom. Kate sat curled on the end of the bed, picking at her hand and whimpering. He sighed, pulling her hands apart. “Stop picking Mary Katharine or I will tie your hands behind your back. Now go take a shower, Daddy needs to make a call.”

She heaved a heavy sigh and slowly plodded past him to the bathroom, pouting like a child. “It itches.”

He playfully swatted her rear end and she yelped. “Good, it is meant to remind you what happens when you don’t listen. Now GO!”

Once he heard the shower start, he made the call he was dreading.

It only rang once. “I need you.”

“Where?”

There was something comforting in the fact that no other questions were asked.

 

* * *

 

Molly woke up to an empty bed. She wasn’t surprised, she’d fallen asleep in Sherlock’s arms and that was surprising enough to last her for years. Just the memory of his arms. God, she felt pathetic.

She pulled herself grudgingly out of bed and went out into the kitchen. The flat was unsettlingly quiet. Sherlock was in his chair, deep in his own thoughts, she couldn’t hear anyone else.

“Sherlock?” She padded closer and whispered, afraid to interrupt him, but scared that something was happening.

“Yes Molly?” She was happy he was talking.

“Where is everyone?” She sat down in John’s old chair, he hadn’t looked up at her; he simply stared straight ahead with an intensity that could burn cities to the ground.

“I sent Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson away, Mycroft has them in a safe house. John and Mary left. I have no idea where. They just left. He left a note.” Sherlock gave a desolate nod toward the desk and the note that she moved quietly to read. “He’s worried about Mary and the baby, it’s not safe for them here. Mary has a past with Jim and the Missus.” She covered her mouth to hide her soft gasp. He finally turned to her. “It’s not safe for you here either Molly. I’ve asked my brother to arrange for you to go. I don’t and can’t know where, but he will make you disappear safely. It’s not safe for anyone I care about here.”

She crossed to him and knelt down, taking his hands in hers and noting briefly that he didn’t react. He didn’t pull away to even look down, his eyes were still on hers. “I don’t care about safe. I’m not leaving you here. I can’t leave you alone to die.”

His eyes closed, “Molly, I can’t let—“

She put a hand to his cheek “Sherlock, look at me.” He opened his eyes again, she never expected to see the look again. The look from the night before he was supposed to die, but it was there, painting pain and resigned emptiness over his entire expression. “I’m never going to leave you, Sherlock. The world could burn around us and I would never leave your side.” Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned in and kissed him. He tensed a moment and then relaxed, letting his hands come to the back of her head, pulling her in closer. Letting everything go into the meeting of their lips. Years of questioning and waiting burning through them in one long burning moment of intensity.

They finally broke, staring at each other, flushed, foreheads pressed together. Molly was afraid to speak, her breath and mind was too shaky. He broke the tension, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Never?”

Molly smiled. “Never.”

“Then it’s off to set the world on fire Molly Hooper.”


	8. Choices

Let’s go back to the very beginning. Bring the Mrs. See you there. – JM

Sherlock smirked at the text. Who knew his worst enemy had such a streak of nostalgia.

 

* * *

 

 

John pulled his phone out, confused and read the text. Turning to Mary, “We have to go back.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, so where is the very beginning? Where are we going?” Molly tried to act like this wasn’t making her stomach roll and flip like a dolphin on meth as she put on her coat.

Sherlock furrowed his brow at her, putting on his scarf, “I can’t let you Molly. I can’t risk that.”

“The message said to bring the missus, I am assuming that was a backhand jab at me, so, like it or not, I’ve been invited. So—“She took a deep breath and steeled herself, “where are we going? The lab? That is where you first met him, technically.”

He couldn’t help but smile are her loyalty in the face of possible death. How could he ever live without her in his life? “Oh no, it goes farther back than that, I think we’re headed to Roland Kerr.”

 

* * *

 

Mary steadied her breath, this was what she was worried would happen. She knew James moved quickly once he had a plan. She’d hoped they would be far enough away by the time he move to be safe. “Where do we need to go?”

“I think he means the pool” his jaw was tense, biting back the surge of rage, trying to not let knowing that that had also been the first time his wife had seen him, had almost killed him, pull his focus. “It’s the first place we—“he cut himself off, “Oh no, wait, we met him at Bart’s in the lab, when he was Molly’s gay boyfriend.” He trailed off a bit, stopping to take a deep breath and rest his hand on Mary’s stomach, “I don’t want you to go with.”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice. I got a special invitation.”

 

* * *

 

Sherlock remembered the room they had been in, long study lab tables, a place of quiet and thought slated to be used for destruction and chaos by their very presence. Molly held his hand and walked a half pace behind him. His need to keep her safe only muddied an already murky situation, but she refused to leave him. Something in that was touching.

James didn’t look up as they entered. Kate perched next to him like a bored child waiting for their mother to finish talking to an old friend. “Do you remember the little game you played here? I liked that one, such a clever and clean killer.” There were two bottles on the table, ominously familiar cream and crimson speckled pills in each.

“I’m glad you came Molly, I wasn’t sure he would let you, he doesn’t trust his missus like I trust mine.” He brushed Kate’s hair back and she leaned into it, letting out a small purr and giggle.

Sherlock felt Molly tense, not in fear, but the tension of a predator about to pounce. He smiled to himself at the ferocity of her loyalty. He led her to the seats opposite the other couple.

“On to business.”

 

* * *

 

John took the lead as they walked into the dimly lit lab. It was so odd to be in a place that had always felt safe and reasonable under such thoroughly terrifying conditions. He tried to keep his mind and his hand steady as he walked, holding Mary’s hand behind him and his gun level in front of them.

A voice leaked from a darkened corner. “He knew you’d get it wrong.”

John felt Mary tense behind him as the man attached to the voice emerged from the shadow. “Long time no see Rose, aren’t you just glowing.”

She let her hand slip from John’s and pressed herself to him, wishing she were not unarmed. “Sebastian. I thought you retired when Jim died?”

“No one really leaves the boss alive, you know that as well as I do. Now why don’t you step away from the doctor so I can get a good look at you, it’s been an age.” He flicked the barrel pointed at them just enough to indicated that he wanted her to move, John refused and leveled his own.

“I don’t think so, where are they? If we got it wrong, where should we be?”

Sebastian let out a low gruff chuckle, basically ignoring John, “He’s feisty, I can see why you tied him down.” He stepped closer, his face set in a state of menacing neutrality.  “Tell the Doctor to step aside Rose, He’s only here because you would have refused to come alone.”

“Stop calling me that.” She stepped out from behind John, but kept close enough to feel he would still be able to keep Sebastian from getting a clear shot.

“Oh, right, it’s ‘Mary’ now, little nurse Mary, the doting wife. You must be so bored. Well, I know I am,” without taking his eyes off her he shifted his gun and fired one clean shot with a soft silenced pop into John’s shoulder, almost the exact same spot as the previous injury.

Life felt like slow motion as John turned his head to Mary, his mouth falling open, eyes darting back and forth between her and the bloom of blood spreading from his shoulder. He staggered backward and felt her lowering him to the floor. He was sure she was talking, but all he saw was the exceedingly calm look in her eyes. That should have been soothing, but even as he slipped into shock, he knew that when his wife looked that calm, it was not a good thing. He tried to hold onto consciousness but failed spectacularly.

Once he was out cold, Mary rose, holding the gun she’d retrieved from her husband’s hand on Sebastian.

“Sides are even now,” he said coldly, dialing something on his phone and flicking the barrel of his gun again to toward the door. “A man’s been shot in the pathology lab.” He hung up. ”There, happy? Time to go.”

She refused to move. “I’m not leaving him.”

“There is a team headed down here as we speak and we have an appointment Rose, move.” He lowered his gun as a sign of good faith.

“After you.”

 

* * *

 

“You remember the game don’t you?” James slid a bottle toward Sherlock with a smile. “Should we explain it to the ladies?”

“I didn’t think you were the nostalgic type, but go ahead. I’ve already made my pick.”

James clicked his tongue and picked up the bottles, handing them to Kate. She rolled them both lovingly in her hands before setting them on the table with a smile, one slightly closer to Molly. “But see it’s not our game this time, it’s theirs. So we should probably explain it to the mouse here.”

“She’s not playing your games, this is between you and me. She’s only here because you were insistent.”

“Ah, yes and I was insistent because it is their turn to play this round.” The men’s eyes were locked in defiance of each other, neither moved until they heard Molly squeak and Sherlock saw the gun slide from under the table in Kate’s lap to point at her. “Explain the game Sherlock.”

His jaw clenched as he spoke, eyes locked on Kate now. “There are two pills, one is safe, one will kill you. You have to choose. They know which is which, it’s chance disguised as deduction. If you choose neither, she will shoot you in the head.” Molly let out a soft cry and he finally turned to her, resting his hand gently on hers. “I’m sorry, just—“He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “take your time and pick. I promise you’ll be okay.”

“Touching.” James sneered, glancing at the heir hands, “but I wouldn’t make promises you can’t keep. Pick a bottle Molly. Which did she offer you? Good or bad?”

Sherlock leaned to whisper to her, but stopped hearing the hammer of the gun click into place. “No cheating!” Kate nearly screamed, her eyes flicking with manic childlike anger, turning her focus to James. “They’re trying to cheat!”

He stroked her cheek and tried to soothe her. “It’s not really cheating, we both know the answer, it’s only fair that they share their guesses, but she chooses in the end. She and you take the pill my darling.”

Molly looked to her hand and then up to Sherlock’s face, reaching to rest her hand on it before quickly releasing him, spinning to the table and snatching up the bottle closest to Kate.

Kate clapped, “Well done! Is it time to take our medicine now?”

“Yes, my darling. I think the ladies should stand for this, though, don’t you think Sherlock? Face the class and explain your choice Miss Hooper.”

Sherlock put his hand on her shoulder as she moved to stand. “Not yet. Just, think first, take your time Molly. Are you sure?”

She couldn’t speak, she just put her hand over his and nodded before carefully moving it and rising to her feet and turning toward him. Kate mirrored the action with a twisted sense of glee, lowering the gun to the table and giving James a noisy kiss on the temple as she turned and stood to face him.

Slowly they each unscrewed the lid, removing the pills and raising them to their lips.

A sharp pop made everyone in the room flinch, followed closely by a second. The men were on their feet instantly.

Molly felt the pain suddenly, searching Sherlock’s face, eyes wide. “Sher-“She teetered and fell forward into his arms. He whispered into her ear and started to ease her to the floor, pressing his hand firmly to her back, looking over at the others.

They still stood, Kate’s face twisted in a grim mask of pain as she clung helplessly to James. His hand on her chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” He muttered as he pulled her into his arms and began to rock her.

Nothing made sense.

 

* * *

 

The drive from the hospital was exceedingly tense. While the guns had been safely tucked away, there was nothing safe about riding in a car with a man like Sebastian.

Finally they pulled up to the non-descript campus, headed down a long dark series of hallways into an empty classroom.

“Why are we here Sebastian, if you’re going to kill me you could have done it at my husband’s side. Where are they?”

“Oh Rose, we both know if I wanted you dead I would have done it hours ago. Look across.”

Sebastian slid up behind her and steered her toward the windows. She shrugged his hand off and let hers slip over the grip of her gun as she turned to him. “Don’t touch me.”

“Calm down, we’re here for a reason, now focus, and look across.”

Mary turned and finally listened to him, staring out the windows to a nearly matching room parallel. Seated at some distance from the windows were James, Kate, Sherlock and Molly. “This is what he saw that night, or close to it, the night your husband killed for a man he just met, a man he trusted, even then, more than you.”

Mary raised her gun slowly. Sebastian matched her movements, both aiming across the distance. “It’s not an easy or a clean shot, Rose, but he did it. Now we’re going to. Boss expects only two shots. One from each. Easy job, you even get to pick.”

She leveled and squared her sight, the plan forming as she adjusted, watching the movement in the room. Praying it would work, she closed her eyes for only a moment before neatly and quietly squeezing off a single shot, lowering her gun with silent calm as Sebastian took only seconds later.


	9. Revelations

This was not the plan. Not entirely. This was not the shot. Not the time for her to die. Kate slumped in his arms, after a few harsh breaths, her eyes rolling back. He held her there, the blood from her chest soaking into his shirt. He began to rock a little, muttering to himself at first before growing louder.

“This is NOT how this was supposed to happen!”

Sherlock stayed on the floor with Molly, whispering to her, cradling her head in his lap and he pressed his scarf to the shot in her back. He only stopped to retort.

“What WAS supposed to happen?”

“Not this.” Was the only near silent reply.

 

* * *

 

 

Sebastian ran as soon as the shot was fired, leaving Mary to stare across at the grim tableau and pray she had made the right choice. After a moment’s pause, she ran herself.

 

* * *

 

The team of vehicles pulled up with alarming speed. Mycroft only hoped that his brother’s predicted timing was right. Agents in heavy swat gear poured into the building. An emergency services team settled into stand by. A thick layer of tension spread as everyone outside waited for the all clear.

The Door sprung open with a thundering crack as the men entered the room, guns trained on James. “Put the girl down!”

He continued to sway slightly, holding the limp body in his arms, his head pressed to her shoulder. Trying to keep the pricking tears at bay. “No.”

Sherlock’s head snapped up. “We need medical help. Now!”

The lead spoke into the handset on his shoulder. “Clear, send them in. Now, we need you to put the girl down and step back.”

No words were penetrating now. He was lost in a silent moment with Kate. His Kate. His poor, damaged, dead Kate. Whispering to her, barely audible. “I’m so sorry, Kate. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. Please don’t leave.”

The team of emergency techs appeared, rushing to Molly and moving in toward Kate. “Sir,” They were not as aggressive, ignoring the fact that this man was a psychopath and only caring to check the slumped and bleeding girl in his arms. He flinched as one very gently touched his shoulder. “Sir, you need to let her go so we can check her.”

Sherlock paced for a moment behind the techs tending to Molly, trying to sort the jargon they were spewing to tell if she would be okay. Wishing he remembered more from when he had been shot.

“DON’T TOUCH HER!” Guns cocked and eyes focused with sharp intensity on James as he screamed at the tech who was trying to get Kate from his embrace. The silence was broken by Sherlock after it had grown a few second past uncomfortable.

“Jim, the only chance she has is if you let them look at her.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the sudden need to be the calm voice of reason for his enemy, other than the look of sheer defeat and sadness on James’ face. “Just, let her go.”

With one final kiss to the top of her head, James let Kate’s body fall into the arms of the waiting tech, who lowered her carefully to the floor and began to check for any signs of life.

Before he could take a step, a gun was to the back of his head. “Step back and get on your knees. Hands on your head.” He complied with no fight. Watching with a now cool detachment as the tech checked over Kate.

They moved to get Sherlock and Molly from the room quickly once they had James subdued. Sherlock gave one last glance back to the girl and the man who loved her, before briskly following the backboard carrying the woman he had come to realize he loved.

James was cuffed now and being hauled to his feet, steered by the arms to the door. His entire demeanor having shifted to one of cold, dark emptiness. They had him out the door as he heard the tech scramble and call for more assistance, only catching the words. “May have a chance, hurry!”

Outside, Molly was loaded with alarming speed into the back of the waiting ambulance. Sherlock moved to join her and met a halting hand. “You’ll have to follow, Sir, we need to tend to her.” Before he could protest, Lestrade was next to him, guiding him slowly away from the tech who had been very clearly about to receive a verbal lashing of epic proportions for trying to stop him from staying with Molly.

“We’ll be right behind her,” his friend soothed, “come on.”

As they sped away, James was brought out under heavy guard, having snapped out of his catatonia at hearing there ‘may be a chance’.

In a voice like the devil only slightly more menacing, James threatened agents. “You can continue to pretend you have me restrained and helpless, and end up in pieces around London by sunrise, or you can let me go back inside and check on my wife.”

Mycroft stepped forward then, keeping at least one trained professional between himself and James. “Mr. Moriarty, you know we can’t let you leave custody, kindly stop harassing these men. Your wife is being attended to by some of the finest emergency staff in London and we will keep you abreast of any change. Now come along, we have some things to discuss.”

James was led to a sleek black car and corralled in with three of the heavily armed agents. Mycroft slid into on the seat opposite once the man was adequately restrained.

“Who shot Mary Katharine and Miss Hopper?”

“That’s exactly what I would LOVE to know.”

 

* * *

 

Mary hovered along the periphery, watching the flurry of armed agents and medical tech. Molly was the first to be brought out, followed by a panicked Sherlock. She let out a small sigh of relief. If they were willing to move her, she was stable enough to move. Next came Moriarty, restrained and surrounded, talking to Mycroft and being hustled into what looked like an armored towncar. That answered two questions, where was the final answer. The ambulance with Molly and the car with James quickly left the scene. She watched and waited for an opportunity to get herself to safety and to check on John. She just had to find out what happened to the girl.

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock’s fingers flew with speed and aggression over his phone firing off messages to his brother and to John. Neither were answering. They arrived at the hospital seconds behind the ambulance and Sherlock was out of the car before it had come to a full stop.

 

He slammed into the hospital, striding with confidence after the medics wheeling Molly down the hall and out of his sight. 

 

“Sir. Sir! SIR!” A sturdy woman in pale blue scrubs marched and caught up the Sherlock, stepping into his path. “I’m sorry, you need to stay out here Sir.” 

 

“I need to stay with her, she’s my everything and she’s hurt because of me.” 

 

She placed a firm but calming hand on his arm and guided him to turn around. She was used to this, she’d been in trauma for a long while. “I know, Sir, but right now, being in there would not help her, it would just be getting in the way of the people who are helping her.” 

 

Sherlock peeled her hand off with distaste. “I am well aware of what is going to happen in there, but I cannot just stand idly by.”

 

Lestrade finally caught up and looked Sherlock over. “Sherlock, we need to make sure everyone is okay. We have calls to make. We don’t know who took those shots so this is not a secure scene. Focus.”

 

He nodded, “Right, yes, right. One by one. Mrs. Hudson.”

 

Lestrade led Sherlock away from the nurse and mouthed a thank you to her as he guided the detective to the waiting area. “Secure, still at the safe house. Mycroft retrieved me and she stayed with the agents. John and Mary?”

 

“In the wind. John is not replying to my texts.” He took out his phone again and shot off another, slightly more urgent text.

 

Lestrade watched and tilted his head to one side. “Have you tried Mary?”

 

Sherlock gave him a look that said in no uncertain terms that he thought the man sitting across from him was a moron. “I doubt she kept her phone when they left. She’s smarter than that. I was just hoping John kept his.” 

 

Lestrade shrugged, unsure how to elde to reach the Watsons. “It’s worth a shot.”

 

Sherlock huffed and sent a text to Mary.

 

“Are you secure?-SH”

 

The reply came in under a minute.

 

“No.-MW”

 

He looked back to Lestrade who had gained a slight smugness that his idea had worked. “Something’s wrong with, John.” 

 

The phone pings again. 

 

“John’s been shot, he’s at Bart’s. I can’t get to him or to you. -MW”

 

“John’s at Bart’s, Mary’s not safe but is pinned down somewhere.” He fired off another text.

 

“Where are you? Will send a car. -SH”

 

“Don’t. Not secure. Will contact when all clear. Stay safe. -MW”

 

He wanted to throw the phone across the room, but managed to keep his composure. 

 

“What’s the word from my brother?” 

 

Lestrade looked up from his phone. “Moriarty is in custody, on his way to a secure facility. His wife is currently in transport to a medical facility.” 

 

Sherlock nodded. “She’s still alive.” He closed his eyes and replayed the scene in his head. Walking through it in slow motion. Speaking as the details cleared themselves in his head. “There were two gunmen. Neither was shooting to kill.” 

 

Lestrade tilted his head, “Why?”

 

It was the nagging question. That and “Who?” why had less options. “Moriarty was recreating the moment. The first time I heard his name. Do you remember that night?” Lestrade gave a grim nod. “I know who shot Molly. I know where Mary is, but I can't figure out who or where the second gunman i-- AH! He really doesn’t let anyone go.” Lestrade was lost, as Sherlock rose quickly and dialed his phone, “Mycroft, ask him where Moran is.”

 

* * *

 

“So, you called an old friend to help you out.” Mycroft sneered at Moriarty as he sat his phone on his lap. 

 

James laughed, “Don’t act like you came to that on your own, you should have given your brother my love.” 

 

Mycroft gave a nod to the well muscled man sitting to the left of James. In a flash an elbow connected with James’s nose, blood spilling down his face and quickly adding to the stains on his shirt. “Where’s Moran?”

 

“Long gone by now, he had pretty simple orders. Aim, shoot, leave.”

 

Mycroft sighed and began to type. 

 

“Confirmed. Location unknown. Status.-MH”   
  


Followed quickly by another.

 

“Stay put. Secure agent headed to your location. Moran status unknown. Keep alert. - MH”

 

* * *

 

Mary found a bench in the dark recesses of the school courtyard. The scene had been secured and cleared. She just had to wait now for the car Mycroft was sending. A knot of regret balled up in her stomach. Why couldn’t they just leave her and her family alone. She sent a message to Sherlock.

 

“How is Molly? I didn’t have a choice. I’m sorry. -MW”

 

She stared at the silent phone, waiting for it to light up. He was taking his time.

 

The text eventually came. “It’s over. You did what you could. How’s John?”

 

* * *

 

“Sir. SIR! You’ve been shot, you have to stay here!” Even with the aid of the teo large orderlies, it was difficult to restrain John. 

 

“Where’s my wife? I need to get to Mary.”


	10. Expectations

“Mister Watson.” An impressively massive pair of men in black suits entered the room. “We’ve been sent to secure your transport.”

 

John sounded like a paranoid maniac. “Who sent you?”

 

The men parted and a woman appeared between them, her heels clicking almost in rhythm with her fingers on her phone. She didn’t look up. “Mr Holmes sent a team to extract you, you need to be in a more secure facility.” Mycroft clearly had a type, and it was beautiful women who rarely looked up. “She handed the phone to the attending nurse. She looked utterly confused.

 

“Hello? Yes, largely stable. Agitated. I don’t think.Yes, Sir. Mr Watson. You’re being transferred.” She passed the phone carefully to him.

 

“Mycroft, Where’s Mary?”

 

* * *

 

Pacing. So much pacing. If you followed him you’d be dizzy, but there was no way to contain his manic energy. There was no new data to be had. It was just waiting, unbearable waiting. All he could do was run over the list in his head of what he knew. John was shot and was being moved if stable. Mary was being extracted. Moriarty and his wife were secure. No news on Molly. 

 

Why was there still no news on Molly. It was making his skin itch. Lestrade was watching him. Twitching his knee with his own level of nervous energy. They could both use a smoke. Their movements stopped with every noise. Every door opening, Every medic, nurse, doctor, or patient that passed. Only to restart when none of it was information about Molly. Neither could decide is no news was good news.

 

“Mister Holmes?”  Guess it was time to find out.

 

* * *

 

The car stopped. “This would be where I leave you, Mister Moriarty. These gentlemen will see to the completion of your transport.”

 

He stepped out, watching the men drag James out of the car and onto the tarmac, moving toward the waiting jet. “We have a very secure cell waiting for you. But fear not, I am not cruel. I will allow them to update you once your wife is healed and secured in a cell of her own.”

 

James shouted, “Your kindness is overwhelming.” as he was forcibly carried up the stairs and loaded into the jet.  

 

He stood in silence watching the craft leave the ground, the with a relieved sigh, Mycroft returned to the car. One more fire put out. Next was verifying that the others were secure. The things one does for family. 

 

* * *

 

Once in the air, the guard stood and removed James’ restraints.

 

“Finally.” He picked up the warmed towel sitting on the table beside him, carefully wiping the dried blood from his face. “Well done with the elbow. That hurt.” Once satisfied with the state of his face, he stood to cross to the restroom, picking up the packed bag on the way. He needed to get her blood off of him. He felt sick. This was going far too sideways, too much interference, too much lack of communication. He needed to know she was alive, that she was on her way back to him. He needed her. He stripped down and stared into the mirror above the sink, his face scrubbed clean, a stark contrast to his blood smeared and spattered body. The same old monster stared back at him. He scrubbed at this chest, thinning and spreading the congealed red around his chest before it would lighten and dissolve into nothing. This wasn’t something that should be mechanical, but it was for James. He was used to blood. Seeing it, smelling it, feeling it, tasting it. It was always blood. Scrubbed clean, he pulled a clean shirt and jeans from the bag. He let out a darkly bemused chuckle. Kate packed this bag. She loved him in these damn jeans. He tossed them onto the counter and ran his hands up her face and over his hair. There was still a very real possibility that she would never see him in these jeans again. His hands fell to the counter, clenching into fists before he punched the wall at full strength. He didn’t know which assassin shot her, but he knew he would track both down and shatter them to pieces to find out. This was NOT how this was supposed to happen.

 

He looked at the blood on his knuckles and laughed, wrapping it with a clean strip from his soiled shirt, then he continued to get dressed and return to his seat. 

 

“Update?”

 

“She’s secure at the facility, she’s in surgery. That’s all they sent.”

 

“And the others?”

 

“We’ve located both, conveniently in the same place. Our men are keeping an eye on the situation.”

 

“I want them brought to me. Alive”

 

* * *

 

Mary was exhausted. Pregnancy put a real crimp in wet work. She forced herself to stay alert, waiting for the text from Mycroft to confirm her extraction. It was incredibly quiet, almost peaceful. The soft wind in the trees made the leave quiver and rustle against one another. She kept her hand on her gun. 

 

She knew he was there, even through the silence. 

 

“Thought you ran.”

 

Sebastian moved closer to her from the shadows, his gun raised. “Knew you couldn’t”

 

She leveled her gun to meet his threat. “Acting under orders?”

 

He laughed a bit, “More curiosity pulled me in. Why did you shoot Kate?”

 

She felt a half smile creep onto her face. “Why’d you pull the shot with Molly?”

 

They lowered their guns.

 

* * *

 

“There was a lot of bleeding but the shot was clean, she’s in surgery now, but everything looks positive. They are working to get the wound cleared and closed and to get her stable. We’ll keep you informed if there are any changes.” The words felt slow and blurred as Sherlock stared at the blood stains on the doctor’s scrubs. Molly’s blood. It was everywhere. It was still on him. Both literally and figuratively. So much of her blood. He forced his mind to shut the blood out. He needed to think.

 

Sherlock finally sat down. Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. It had to have been Mary. He knew how clean a shot she was. She was deadly precise, even when it wasn’t deadly. He physically knew all too well.  

 

Lestrade thanked the doctor and watched Sherlock’s face scrunch and tense in frustration. He knew better than to talk. Sherlock was burying himself in his mind. If only this was a verbal stroll through the odd wonderland of Sherlock’s mind.

 

He moved away from the detective to update Mycroft and Mary. 

 

“Molly in surgery, Doctor’s seem positive. Sherlock’s shutting down. Status? -GL”

 

His phone buzzed.

 

“Moriarty is in flight. Mary Katharine is being attended to. Dr. Watson is secured. No word from Mary.-MH”

 

He stared at the phone, feeling uneasy. He would not feel safe until everyone was secured. 

 

* * *

  
  
Mary’s phone blinked to life on the bench, abandoned.


	11. Reparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The timeline is a little wibbly-wobbly in this chapter, sorry, just worked for the flow of the story.

His knee bounced, his hands shook, and he ground a piece of gum in his teeth. Why must everything take so long? They’s been in the air for an hour, just circling over London , waiting to land. He needed to be on the ground. He needed to see Kate. He needed to know what happened, but he was stuck in the damn air. He fired off a message. 

 

“Do you have them?”

 

More bouncing, more waiting.

 

“No. Complications, Extraction failed, 4 down. More info to come.”

 

James launched the phone into the wall. The very last thing he needed was more complications and no answers.

 

* * *

 

The two stared at each other, guns lowered, the air far less tense. He moved in and sat next to her on the bench.

 

“You were supposed to shoot the other one. My orders, were to wait until you shot the girl, and then I was to shoot him.”

 

Mary tilted her head in disbelief, “You were supposed to shoot James? Why on earth would you pass up that opportunity, you’d have freed a lot of people.”

 

Sebastian laughed, “It wasn’t a kill shot, although it would have been tempting, I was supposed to clip him. Was I see it, he figured you would shoot Sherlock’s girl so that you knew it was a clean shot, and then I’d shoot him, cause just enough chaos to get them all out of there. He knew there wasn’t a ton of time. You know how he likes to play games, this was just the first part, Rosie, he has so much planned for all of you.” 

 

Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I should have shot him, but I wanted to save that girl. I figured, the same thing he had, Sherlock would not have walked into that room without his brother on standby, ready to come in with guns and medics. He plans ahead far more than he lets on, it makes him look smarter if he acts like it was the magic of his mind.” They shared a short laugh. “So I figured, shoot the girl, throw off James, get them both out of the building in custody. Not to brag but,” she pretended to dust off her shoulder. A red dot appeared where her hand was, she watched it move until she could no longer see it. She instead saw the same cursed mark on Sebastian's face. “Spoke too soon?”

 

* * *

 

The towncar let Mycroft out just outside the emergency services wing, he told them to wait. 

 

Heading into the building he could see his brother and the detective inspector waiting. He didn’t wait. Marching to the counter he took a quick glance at the nurse’s badge, “Marjorie, I need a status and records, past and current, and to speak to the head of surgery, sooner would be preferable.” 

 

The nurse looked him over with a notable look of distaste. “Sir, I’m going to need you to--” she was interrupted by the phone ringing.

 

He smiled, “You should answer that.” 

 

She picked up the phone, still locking him in the dirtiest of looks, “Yes, Yes Sir. I’m not authori-- yes Sir.” The looks slowly melted into disbelief as she hung up the phone. “Mister Holmes, if you and your friends would like to follow me.” 

  
  


“Thank You. Greg, Sherlock, with me please.” Lestrade looked over to Sherlock, not sure if he was aware enough to acknowledge the very existence of his brother, but he was already on his feet, taking long strides, He followed as quickly as he could.

 

They were led into a private office where the doctor was already waiting, he examined a file before adding it to the small pile on his desk and acknowledging the men, speaking to Mycroft and effectively ignoring the others. “She should be out of surgery within the hour. There was a lot of bleeding, but the shot was clean, whoever took the shot was skilled, the bullet lodged between the right kidney and the spleen, missed the spinal column and intestine but did nick her liver, it was dicey at first, but she got here quickly and the staff was prepared. We’ve scrubbed her from the system. Once she is out of surgery and stable for transport, she was never here.” 

 

Mycroft nodded, “And the other one?” 

 

Sherlock looked at his brother, confused, Kate had not been brought in.

 

“What other one?”

 

* * *

 

John winced as the transport vehicle hit a larger than expected bump in the road. He had no idea where he was going and no idea where his wife was. He was getting angry. “Could you put the phone down a minute and answer my goddamn question? I know you’re in contact with Mycroft, just find out where Mary is.” 

  
She didn’t look up.”I don’t have clearance for that information at this time.”

 

“Jesu-- “ He pulled himself up on the gurney, “this isn’t some diplomatic mission or government coup, you don’t need clearance, just bloody tell me where my wife is!”

 

She let out a long suffering sigh, after tonight, she earned a raise. “He doesn't want me to tell you.”

 

“Why? What is happening?”  he coughed to hide the hitch in his voice. “Where is she?”

 

“There was in incident at the Roland Kerr facility, two were gravely injured and transported to medical facilities, one was taken into custody. Operatives cleared the scene but did not find the shooters--”

 

“Two shooters, Jesus. What does this have to do with--” he stopped short, he knew the answer to that question. 

 

“Mr. Holmes received a message from your wife and prepared and extraction team to retrieve her. At last update the scene was not secure, so a more skilled team was being sent in to retrieve your wife. We’re waiting. That’s all I know, now please, you need to keep yourself calm and lie back.”

 

John squeezed his eyes shut, taking several deep breaths, why did his wife have to be an assassin?

 

* * *

 

Three of them, all in black, slowly approached the small inner courtyard. They were used to far more complicated extractions, but when you received a call from on high to pick up a pregnant woman, you just complied. A stop and check, all clear, move in. They saw their acquisition on the bench, head on down, as if looking at her feet, or perhaps she had nodded off in the dark and silent courtyard. The lead spoke, hushed but heard, “Mrs, Watson, we are here to take you into custody.” 

 

There was no reply. They moved in closer, the two flanking the lead as he approached the woman. “Mrs. Watson.” Once they were almost close enough to touch her, they were able to see the entire scene. The large shadow at her feet appeared to be a man, the lead pulled to a stop. “Mrs, Watson, if you can, raise your hands slowly.” He waved the flanking agents to fan out, check the perimeter. 

 

He crept forward, she had still not moved, “Ma’am?” At the sound of a sharp whiz and pop, he dropped to the ground, his firearm at the ready, “Check?”

 

“Right clear.” The call came quickly, then nothing. 

  
He reached slowly for his radio, “Man down, the scene is not secure, we need backup.” He took a deep breath and slowly army crawled toward the bench, staying as much in shadow as he could, stopping when his hand came in contact with a warm pool of blood. He looked up, and despite his years of training, still felt a wave of nausea seeing the thin string of blood running down her face. He moved slowly for his radio again. “We need backup, NOW! The acquisition has been terminated.” 


	12. Remorse

When Mycroft sounded this calmly snide, the world was on the verge of coming to an end. 

 

“I am aware that there were mistakes made, that is abundantly clear since she is no longer in our custody. My question is how was this allowed to happen?”

 

Having commandeered the surgeon's office, they were all set to finding out as much as they could as fast as they could.

 

Sherlock called Mycroft’s assistant, he needed to talk to John. “It’s on its end, John. Molly is still in surgery, Mary Katharine is in the wind, we are getting a status on Moriarty. No, I-- We haven’t. I’m sorry, John.”

 

Lestrade was charged with finding out the status of Mary’s extraction. “What, when, how? Oh God.” His face lost all color. He looked over to Sherlock and shook his head. “Yes, thank you.” He set the phone down and sat before his knees gave out. He had seen and heard a lot in his career, but some things, personal things, always hit him like a sledgehammer. 

 

Sherlock knew before he hung up the phone, knew just by seeing his friend’s face. “John, I’m so sorry. As soon as Molly is moveable, we’ll be there. Just--” he wanted to tell him to stay safe, stay calm, be careful, but he couldn’t. “Standby.”

 

He was snapped out of his sentiment by his brother slamming his fist into the desk. “Unacceptable! If you cherish the life you have build in this world, you will find out how this happened, who was responsible, and you will have them in custody before I truly get angry.” He took a deep breath and set the phone down. “They are both gone and my agents are woefully unable to explain how that happened.” His jaw clenched. “This is just-- unacceptable.”

 

“Mary’s dead.” It was barely a whisper. Lestrade kept his head down. “Your team, your experts in extraction, were there too damn late, and now, we have to tell a man, a good man, a friend, that his wife, his child, are gone. Unacceptable doesn’t even begin to describe this. We were-- played. We tried to win a game created by a sick, sadistic psychopath, and we were played. He won. We’re separated, injured, damaged, and dead. How do we even begin to come back from this?” 

 

Sherlock looked down at his defeated friend. Letting his brother handle the speaking, “We just do, Greg. We retreat, we regroup, and we live to fight another day. We can’t allow this-- devastation to destroy us, we can’t let him win. We must soldier on.” He took another deep breath and rubbed his face. “Sherlock, you have to go to Jo--”   
  


“I’m not leaving until Molly can be transpor--”   
  


“Dammit, Sherlock, you chose to become attached to these people. YOU chose this man to be your best friend and he needs you now. This was your choice, to get close, to care. I know this girl matters to you, you love her,” he tried to keep his disdain for that word at a minimum, “but there is nothing you can do for her here. She will be safe here.” 

 

Sherlock shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, Lestrade cut him off. “He’d do it for you.”

 

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

The plane finally touched down and if James could have gotten off before it had come to a stop he would have. There was a car waiting. He looked at his watch, quickly doing the math, figuring out how long it would be until her could see her, touch her, hold her. He needed to know that she was still here, still real, still alive. 

 

“DRIVE!”

 

* * *

 

Pain. She hadn’t woken up in this much pain in a long time. It hurt to breathe, her throat felt, full, why would her throat feel full. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around. “She’s awake!” The nurse charged with her constant monitoring yelled for backup. “Welcome back Mrs. Moriarty, you were shot, don’t try to speak, you have a tube in your throat. The doctor will be in shortly to explain everything.” 

 

Kate balled up all her strength and smacked the bed to get the nurse’s attention. She wanted to talk, she needed to find out where James was, she needed him here, now. She didn’t have to wait long.

 

“The longer it takes for you to get me to her the less time you have to LIVE!” 

 

She tried to sit up, the pull of him making her want to run but she was trapped under a web of tubes and wires. 

 

He finally reached the door. Stopping short as soon as he saw here. “God, Babygirl, what did they do to you.” He rushed to her side then trying to find a way to her through all the equipment encasing her in the bed. He was only able to get to her hand. He dropped to his knees and pulled it to his mouth. “I’m so sorry, Love. This was not supposed to happen, this never should have happened.”

 

The nurse feeling a swell of empathy placed a hand on his shoulder. “She’s going to be okay.” 

 

He shrugged her off, “Don’t touch me, she’s not okay. None of this is okay.”

 

* * *

 

His hands were shaking, this was new for him. He was used to hurting people. It never really mattered, they were occasionally useful, but by in large, most were utterly useless to him. He let himself get close, get attached. He let himself care. He hated when John hurt. Sure, he still had his not so good moments, but this, what he was about to do, what he had to say, this was going to destroy his best, his first, his truest friend. He opened the door slowly. 

 

“John?”

 

He knew all of his best friend’s expressions, this one, this was new. “Sherlock, what’s going on? What happened?” 

  
He didn’t say a word as he simply walked to the bed and as carefully as he could with the various IVs and equipment, embraced John. “I’m sorry, John.”


	13. Stages

John’s wrinkled his forehead, not able to register what was happening. Sherlock was holding him. Sherlock was sorry. Why was Sherlock even here? Pieces started to shift in his head. “Sherlock, where’s Mary?”

 

He felt Sherlock take a deep breath. Bad news preparation. “John--”

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, closing out the world, this wasn’t happening. This was a dream.

 

He muttered softly, “You’re not here. This isn’t real. You don’t hug people, you don’t have that tone with people. Dreams, I’m dreaming. I was shot and this is a drug hallucination.” 

 

Sherlock was not a man of sentiment, he was not a man of comfort and compassion, he was not a man of empathy. What he was, was a man of loyalty. “John,” He looked his best friend in the eye. Feeling a pain, a deep open wound in his chest. Hurting John, hurt him. “The extraction failed,” John’s head, followed by his whole body, shook. “She’s dead, John. She’s gone and I am so very sorry John.” 

 

* * *

 

Greg hadn’t moved. He thought, maybe if I just stay here, in this office, with my head down, everything will right itself. This wasn’t, this couldn't be as bad as it seemed. Re-group. They had to re-group. The missing pieces would sure fall into place once heads cool and all of the brainpower was together and moving forward, unified in the same direction. “How long until we can move Molly?”

 

“I’m not a cardiothoracic surgeon Gregory.” Mycroft pressed the bridge of his nose. “It should be soon.”

 

“Good, yes, good, Then we can settle everyone in and figure this out. Fall back, assess the damage and find the right strategy. This will all work out this will work.” Mycroft watched the D.I. breaking down, thinking of anything that could possibly make this situation better. There was no better here. 

 

“Greg, we’ve lost.”  He moved to sit in the chair next to his compatriot. “We organized, we strategized, and we lost. You were right, we played with a psychopath and expected to walk out clean. We are fools.”

 

Greg looked him over as he listened, seeing a side of this seemingly cold man he had not before. 

 

Mycroft stared at the painting behind the surgeon’s desk. An icy seascape, devoid of life. Rock, ice, and turbulent sea. 

 

“I am not a good man, Greg. My career, my life, is a prim and polite form of absolute destruction. I’ve started revolutions with a text. I’ve murdered men, women, and children with the stroke of a pen while sipping tea and it has meant nothing to me. There is nothing good in me and nothing has happened to me. I live a quiet life. You could almost call it happy and I absolutely don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve peace. The Lord or whatever power it is that plots out our life has been kind to me despite the utter chaos I create. Then that same power takes a man like John Watson, nm honest, loyal, and good man. A soldier, a doctor, a true friend to people who cannot fathom or do not deserve friendship as real and caring as his, a truly good man, and he utterly destroys him. That is how the balance is restored. A man like myself can only exist, if good men are decimated. They pay for the red in my ledger. I don’t know how to fix this, but I have to fix this.”

  
  


James sat at Kate’s bedside, keeping her hand in his, pressing it to his lip occasionally and staring at the door. His knee bounced, his jaw clenched. He was a tightly wound ball of pure rage. 

 

There was a rap at the door. The lead operative on in charge of the retrieval of Mary and Sebastian waited a moment before stepping in, his hands behind his back. “Do you see this Kate,” James spoke slowly, softly, and clearly, belying his inner fire. “This man, this one right here, is about to die” He kissed her hand again, feeling it tense in his grasp. “He has to Kate. You see, I give simple instructions. Bring in the assassins. Bring in the man or woman who hurt my Kate.” He looked at her and squeezed her hand “Mine.” He carefully set her hand down on the bed and rose from his seat, meticulously brushing the nearly invisible wrinkles from his suit, then stalking toward the man in the doorway. “Now sure, I could look at this situation and say, yes, the person who truly hurt you is dead. Gone. Boom!” He held his finger to his head and pantomimed being shot in the head. “But dead is not good enough.” His tone became erratic, flowing from eerie calm to manic screaming, “DEAD does not repair the DAMAGE.” He now stood toe to toe with the man, a man a who had several inches on him in height. That difference didn’t stop the man from taking a small step back in fear. James’s voice returned to barely a whisper. “They needed to suffer, to know that what they did, had CONSEQUENCES.” He poked at the man’s chest before swiftly turning and starting to walk away. “But why am I bothering to tell you this.” He snapped back toward the man, raised the gun he carried in his waistband and shot the man in the head. 

 

Kate’s eyes went wide, tears pricking the corners. 

 

James took a deep breath and returned to her side, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I know, Shhh, shhh, I know.” He closed his eyes and took deep shaking breaths. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

 

* * *

 

There was only a dull hum in the room. Neither man spoke. John stared at the ceiling. Counting the misshapen holes and swirls in the perforated tiles. He had often wondered when he laid in bed like this, staring at the ceiling, what the point of him was. He’d spent his life trying to be a good enough person. He saved lives, sure he had bad days, but all the whole, the lives he saved out weighed any he took in the course of war and loyalty. But what was the bloody point. Why did he bother to remain a good man when all the world did was hurt him and take from him. He lost his military career because of a rogue bullet trying to save lives. He lost his best friend to a mad man. He got his best friend back, only to see him fall even harder into drugs and the demons in his own mind, and now, he lost the entirety of what was left of his world. Mary was gone. Their baby-- was gone. What was left? Going through the motions of life, trying to forget. What was the fucking point.

 

He shifted his head to the side, looking over at Sherlock. Sherlock sat by the window, his eyes on his silent phone. John finally spoke.

 

“Leave.”

 

Sherlock’s head popped up turning to John. “John?”

 

“I said leave. Just, leave me here Sherlock. Get to Molly, you get to her, and you stay at her side. Don’t le-” his voice hitched, “Don’t ever let her go again Sherlock. You never know when you will lose her.” He squeezed his eye shut, trying to stifle the tears.”Make her your everything, Sherlock, because it’s worth it. No matter how bad the bad times get and how horribly soon it is all over, it is ALL worth it.” He couldn’t stop the tears now. “I had two years, two of the best and worst years of my life because no matter how bad the bad was,” He laughed a little, “And dear GOD it was bad, at the end of the storm, I had her. My beautifully, amazingly, wonderfully messed up wife, and we,” He stopped pressing the back of his hand to his eyes. “We had a FUTURE. A real future that wasn’t about murder and death and chasing villains that just shouldn’t be real. Things like this can’t be real, right? Real is a home, a wife, a child. A daughter who was going to have her smile and my sense of humor. A daughter that would scream at us and tell us exactly how we ruined her life while we watched with a secret pride at the woman she was becoming. We had that. Hope, and it was worth all the pain. So just, leave Sherlock. You are my best friend and I love you, but I can’t let you off the hook with this. You NEED her Sherlock so go. NOW!”

 

He watched his friend slowly rise, cross to him, wrap an arm around him carefully and kiss him on the top of his head. It was the oddest and most comforting thing. Then he watched as Sherlock left his room.

 

* * *

 

Molly tried to raise her head but the throbbing all over made her instantly regret that choice, leaving her no other options but to roll her head to the side to see where she was. To her left, a small table, medical monitoring equipment, and window to the nurses station. To her right, Sherlock.

  
“Welcome back, Miss Hooper.”


	14. Rememberance

She is wearing a kitten pin on her lab coat. That was the very first observation that flashed into the data banks of his mind when the Detective Inspector introduced him to the lab pathologist that would be assisting him on this case. A quick succession of observations followed. Single, introvert, intelligent, broken, dedicated, lovely, quiet, insecure, fragile, sentimental, needs you, guarded, sheltered, kind, strong. They flowed from her, she was an open book. He extended his hand to her.

 

“Miss Hooper.” 

 

She extended her own hand and then laughed awkwardly, pulling it back to remove the blood streaked glove from her hand. “H-Hello.”

 

He made a face and lowered his hand, foregoing the shake. “You’ve examined the body?”

 

She was staring, she snapped back into her senses at his question. “Oh, Yes, The body, this way.”

 

He tried to hide his smile as she walked away. Two words flashing again. Needs you.

 

* * *

 

John had been stumbling his way through another day. It was much needed routine. He had gotten out of routines, his day before were never usual. There were days that seemed ordinary, Wake, work, stop by the shop, head home and then -- BAM -- there he would be, covered in blood, unfazed, asking if there was milk. He had to get back to a routine after that. Wake, medicate, work, eat, work, medicate, eat, drink, sleep, repeat. There were occasionally changes, days when he would stay in, not follow the pattern.  He knew the word but never said it, just found a friend who would prescribe what he needed and not question it. So this morning, had been like the others, wake, medicate, work, eat-- BAM -- who’s she? 

 

He always sat alone at the small diner just up the street from the surgery, so he didn’t expect any company, and yet, there she was.

 

She whispered quickly as she sat “Hello, this is odd, I know, but I need you to take my hand and laugh. Act like you’ve been waiting for me to get here. Sorry, I promise I will explain in ten minutes.” her voice raised. “I am so sorry, Love! Traffic, my lord!”

 

He balked for a moment and then grabbed her hand, laughing. “It’s always traffic, Darling. You really should stop driving. Lives would be saved.” 

 

She sat next to him and laughed playfully smacking his arm. He noticed her scanning the room. After another moment, she relaxed. “Thank God, thank you!” She snatched up a menu and started reading. He was dumbstruck. “So, Love, what’s your story?” She smiled up at him, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. 

 

“I’m on my lunch. How about you, Darling? Do you have name, perhaps?” 

 

Her laugh crackled between them. He hadn’t felt this in a long time.  Unusual. 

 

She dropped the menu smiled over it. “I’ve been going by Mary lately.”   
  


* * *

 

He called her into his office, she was instantly skeptical. Things had been going too well. She was surely about to meet the business end of at the very least a long lecture. She quickly ran through her day so far as she walked slowly down the hall. He had rose early, kissing her forehead before he slipped out. He’s been nearly silent over breakfast, focusing more on his mobile than his fruit. She had stayed quiet as well, his forehead was knit, so she knew he was concentrating and it was best to let him decide when to talk. He didn’t. Next she had curled up in the library and read for the bulk of the morning. He was brought her comic books after his last trip. He never was gone long, and he always brought her presents. Oh god, did he feel she had not thanked him properly for the gift when he had come home last night? Was she that spoiled that she took his affection as expected. She took a deep breath and walked slowly into his office, her eyes cast down.

 

“Kate, my darling.” He saw her tense slightly. “Come over here, love.”

 

“Yes, Daddy.” She inched closer to where he sat, he was not alone, there was a woman behind him, slowly lathering his face as he leaned back in a chair. “I-I can come back if I am interrupting, Daddy.” 

 

He chuckled. “How can you interrupt someone who called for you? This is Vera, she’s here to help me look fantastic. Doesn’t she make me look fantastic my darling?” 

 

She nodded, over time she had come to appreciate just how attractive her master was. “Oh Yes Daddy.” 

 

“Good, I’m glad you noticed.” He winked, “I need you to come learn what she does, Kate. We’re going to be going on a trip.” 

 

She couldn’t help but interrupt. “We?”

 

He gave her a cold look. “Don’t interrupt darling, and yes, I said we. It’s time for Daddy to show you his home.”

 

She contained a small yip. She had not been out of this apartment for longer than she could remember. It was exciting and a bit frightening.

 

“Daddy,” she spoke softly, not sure if it was safe for her to speak. “Is it safe?”

 

He smiled and cooed at her, “Oh my sweet baby, it will be safe because you will be with me, you are always safe with me. Now I need you to come learn from Vera so you can tend to me while we are in London.”

 

She dashed to the side of the small, angry looking woman at her master’s head. “Yes, Daddy.”

 

Vera moved with efficiency, carefully explaining the steps to giving a traditional shave. Kate followed instructions when she was given them. Lathering her master’s face as he watched with a smile in his eyes. She only tensed when the razor came out. She watched at Vera slowly dragged the blade over his skin in firm and confident strokes. Vera handed her the razor and guided her hand for two slow strokes. His eyes were closed and Kate just stared at him, feeling the rhythm of the blade on his skin. Vera took her hand away and took a step back, letting Kate finish the process. 

 

Kate was trying to not shake, her thoughts were unnerving her. This was a simple task, but all she could focus on was the glide of the razor over his neck, and how she could easily kill him. This was not a normal thought. Why was it in her head? Not only was it in her head, she wanted to do it. She loved this man and she hated this man. It was not often that she thought of the time in her life before James became her world. He took her. He tormented her. He tortured and abused her. He loved her. Deeply and madly loved her. She let the blade glide slower and slower. She could be free of him. Could she be free of him? Her hand stopped and his was on it instantly. He always could read her thoughts. 

 

“Trust, Kate. This is about trust. Don’t break it, Kate.” She resumed the slow scrape of the blade. The shake in her hand getting harder to control. He locked eyes with her, “Focus, Kate. If you cut me I will hurt you.” 

 

Her hand stopped again. “I can’t, Daddy.” She pulled the blade away and tried to hand it to Vera but he was faster than her and stopped her hand, slowly bringing the blade back to his throat. 

 

“You can and will, Mary Katharine.”

 

She took a steadying breath and resumed the shave, trying to pick up speed and confidence. Trying to get it over with so she could get away. 

 

Then came the sharp hiss as the blade nicked the skin as she moved from his neck to his jaw. With alarming speed he stood, knocked the blade from her hand and threw her to the wall, holding her by the neck. “This takes focus and patience, Mary Katharine. Two things you sorely lack. You may leave is Vera.” The woman left without question. She was clearly well paid. 

 

“What do you lack, Mary Katharine?” 

 

She rasped out, “Focus and patience, Daddy.” 

 

“Good, she listens.” He let go of her and she slumped. “I think you need some time to think about your shortcomings.” He took her wrist and she tensed. She hadn’t been in the cupboard in a long time. She still hated it. 

 

* * *

 

He practiced in his head. Social graces were not his strong suit, “Would you like to have coffee with me?” He would ask her after he finished his experiment in her lab. Take the chance. She smiled as she came into the lab, she was always happy to see him. 

 

“Sherlock, Yes. I, well, it took a little searching but I was able to find a, um, riding crop that matched your specifications.” He smirked, she always came through for him. “So, I have some work to do, I’m just going to, yeah, buzz when you need me.” 

 

She practically scurried from the room and he chuckled.  He removed his coat, stopping only to check his phone before he set to work. There was a text. His face scrunched, that sweaty little man said he knew of a roommate for him. Change of plans. Didn’t they know he was on a case. He took his frustration out on the corpse. 

 

She came back after a while, “So, bad day was it?” she laughed awkwardly as she approached him.

 

He was to in his own head to remember what he had intended to ask her. “I need to know what bruises form in the next 20 minutes. A man’s alibi depends on it. Text me.” He looked up at her briefly before he set to writing notes about the body. Sometimes it helped to keep the smaller details on paper so they didn’t have to be retrieved later. 

 

She shifted and worked up her courage, “Listen, I was wondering. Maybe later, when you’re finished--” 

 

Something seemed off as he filed away yet another image of her, she looked different, “You’re wearing lipstick. You weren’t wearing lipstick before.” 

 

She stammered, trying to gloss over her obvious attempt to draw attention to herself, shaking her head to brush it off. “I, uh, I refreshed it a bit.” 

 

He was skeptical, but returned to his notes, “Sorry, you were saying?”

 

She refocused her courage, “I was wondering if you’d like to have coffee.” 

 

“Black, two sugars please. I’ll be upstairs.”  He smiled and dashed out, oblivious.

 

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

She smelled his hair as his head rested on her chest. He always smelled of the same apple-y scented store brand shampoo. It was comforting. They’d been dating two months and his head on her chest as they fell asleep was become a more regular occurrence. She didn’t mind in the slightest. This domesticity was so wonderful. She might even marry him. 

 

She could see a future there. A family. Nothing big. She didn’t need a country house and a brood of blue eyed children to corral into a minivan. No. She just wanted him and their child. She always seemed to picture a little girl. He’d be a good father. She was learning how good a man he was the longer they were together. That was soothing too. Knowing he was a good man. A damaged man, but a good man nonetheless. She kissed the top of his head and drifted to sleep. She had shopping to do after work tomorrow and it was going to be a long day.

  
  
  


She looked at the screen, a blocked call. She ignored it.

 

Thankfully, her reflexes never relaxed over the years. Her head snapped following the whoosh and sharp pop as the glass behind her shattered. She had a text.

 

‘Don’t ignore my calls. – M”

  
  


 

She dreaded going home. She felt watched. Nothing felt safe, but she couldn’t just leave him. She had to find a good excuse.

 

He was waiting for her when she got home. Bumbling around the kitchen, starting dinner.

 

“John, Love, can you sit down please?”

 

He turned to her, concern knitted on his brow. “Is something the matter, Dear?”

 

She pat his hands as he sat down, “I have to go away for a while.”

 

The concern shifted to confusion. She continued, “There is a family emergency in the states. I know I don’t talk much about my family, but it is quite urgent and while usual-” 

 

He broke in. “No, no, I understand, emergency. What can I do? It will be tricky but I am sure we can both get some time of-”

 

“No, um, sorry, John. I- This is something I need to take care of alone. I’m so sorry, John.” 

 

He stood and went back to cooking, an awkward silence falling over the room. “John?”

 

“Yeah, right, just, let’s just have some dinner and we can settle in and figure this all out. It’s fine. It will work.”

 

“John, I-I need to leave now. I know it’s all fast and unexpected but I promise you, I will keep in touch and I will be back as soon as I physically can.” She hated making a promise she knew she would not keep. 

 

He moved to her and kissed the top of her head. “It will all work out. Please be safe.”

  
The day she came back, he bought a ring.


	15. Progess

There was so much to do. Endless amounts to do. He didn’t care. This was all that needed done now. Protecting her. Saving her. Loving her.

 

Her eyes fluttered open and slowly scanned the room, finally falling on him. 

 

“Welcome back, Miss Hooper.” 

 

She only then realized he was holding her hand, as he leaned in and brushed a soft kiss over her knuckles. 

 

“You really need to stop getting yourself into these situations, Love, they are just far too dangerous for me.” 

 

She tried to laugh and instantly regretted it, the pain of moving any part of her body was intensely painful. 

 

He stood instantly. Checking over her at the slightest indication that she might be in pain. “I’m sorry!" He lightly smoothed a thumb over her wrinkled brow. “I’m bad at this.” 

 

She took a slow breath, trying to keep her face from betraying just how much pain she was in. “Yeah,” she worked for every word, “wait, what --are you bad-- at, exactly?” 

 

He gently kissed her forehead, “Being here for you.”

 

She winced again and he handed her a small button. She looked confused. “You need it, it’s a controlled dose. You’ll be fine.” She closed her eyes again, trying to decide if she was in enough pain to test her always fragile sobriety. She felt a strange comfort in knowing he had somehow deduced that about her and never pressed her about it. It was their secret. She pushed the button and sighed when the feeling of heavy lightness rushed over her. Dilaudid, it was almost pleasant. 

 

“I don’t think you’re so bad at it. I could do with a few less bullets and madmen, but other than that.” She smiled faintly, hoping he understood her intention when she gingerly slid away from him on the bed.

 

He climbed into the bed as carefully as he could but still managed to bump one of his knees on her leg. She winced a little, “Okay, maybe you are kinda bad at this.”

 

The both softly laughed as he gently draped an arm over her. “I’m trying, love. I’m really trying.”

 

The drugs were working very well now and she moved a little closer, drifting into his warmth. “I know.” she blinked heavily and tried to organize the muddle of thoughts spinning in her head. “Are we safe now?”

 

He tensed, lightly resting his head on hers. “No, I’m so sorry, Molly. We are still so far from safe.”

 

She struggled to keep her eyes open, “So, what do we do now?”

 

“We try to heal.”

 

* * *

 

The two men sat largely in silence, waiting. Each running over what they knew in their heads, Mary was dead, Moriarty and his bride were not in custody, Molly was awake, John was safe. They just kept trying to keep everything in order, waiting to go to action when they were needed, if they were needed. It was unbearable. 

 

Lestrade shifted when he heard Mycroft stand, moving in front of him. “I am not sure I can stand this much longer.”

 

Lestrade stood and leveled his gaze to Mycroft’s “What else can we do?”

 

* * *

 

He just wanted to be alone, but there was no alone when you were in this much danger. Sherlock had seen to that. First it was just the silent armed men, one on each side of the heavy door. It felt like a prison. He was stuck here when all he wanted to do was run. He wanted away. They were running, they had left this behind and now? Now he was being held prisoner for his own safety and he couldn’t even see his wife’s body. 

 

He tried to remain calm. His mood shifting erratically from total numb depression to violent rage. He shouldn’t be alone and needed to be alone all at once. This was all too much. 

 

He paced, dragging an IV in his wake. He flinched when the door clicked open. He crumbled to the ground when he saw her walking in, sobbing uncontrollably. She came over and knelt down, helping him as much as she could with her hip. “My poor dear, boy. Come on now, into bed you get.” Mrs. Hudson steered him carefully until they both sat on the edge of his bed, letting him sob into her shoulder as she lightly stroked his back. “I know, love, I know.” 

 

He finally was able to speak after a few minutes, “You shouldn’t be here Martha, you were safe. We were safe, too. We had  quite nearly gotten away.”

 

She carefully rocked and shushed him, “Oh John, we were never safe. We can pretend, we can act like this can all be normal, but it just can’t my dear. All we can do is try our best to stay at our normal.” She continued to rub his back softly. “It’s going to be so hard, I know. This is all just, far more than anyone should be able to handle, but we must. We have to fight on. She would want you to fight on.” 

 

Neither said much after that, falling into a sad sense of comfort as she slowly rocked and pet him, humming softly.

 

* * *

 

He paced behind the doctor and nurse, tapping his gun against his leg as he became slowly more and more manic. “Why is this taking so LONG?”

 

The doctor tried to suppress his sigh. “I’m sorry, Sir, we are going to remove her breathing tube, we need to be careful. The doctor went back to work, slowly removing the tape and beginning the slow pull of removing the tube. Jim covered his ears as she coughed and gagged as the invading plastic slipped from her throat. She gulped in a breath and moaned in pain. She was used to pain, but this, this was a bit much. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused, working to regulate her breath to minimize the pain that was breathing. She had learned to control pain. He taught her that. How to breath and make the pain smaller and smaller. She didn’t fear pain anymore, but she still hadn't quite mastered doing it in silence.

 

“Daddy.” Her voice was so soft. Fragile. It only reminded him how close he had been to losing her. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, scrubbing away the image of her bleeding in his arms, appearing dead. 

 

“Yes, baby, I’m here.” The doctor left the room quickly, not keen on staying in a small space with a gun wielding madman. James returned to her side, again on his knees.

 

“Who fucking shot me?”

 

* * *

  
Mycroft’s phone buzzed it’s way across the desk, ignored by the two men kissing furiously next to it. Everyone deals with grief in their own way.


End file.
